The Search for Ursa
by Lady Asvin
Summary: It's been 10 years. Lives have changed, obligations have invaded, and Katara feels stuck in her role as Tribe leader. When Zuko gets a clue about Ursa and comes to her for help, how will they deal with the adventure of a decade-and the feelings involved?
1. Ozai's Lead

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 1: Ozai's Lead

"Hello."

He stood regally, the setting sun behind him causing her to catch only his silhouette from afar. Walking several feet closer, she could see that his face had not changed much since the days of the war. His eyes still burned with that same old passion; only this time, instead of chasing the world's only hope to regain his honor, he was leading by his example and marching his grand nation into a new era.

"It's been some time," she replied to his greeting, and smiled invitingly. "Please, come inside. Make yourself comfortable." She had not changed much either; some of the childish fat was gone from her face, and her pronounced cheekbones and tan skin set off her clear blue eyes outstandingly, but it was the warmth radiating from those eyes that made him instantly calm. For a moment, he was seventeen again and about to eat one of her less-than-gourmet meals in a bowl she had cleaned sitting on a mat she had washed; no matter how much she had hated him then, she was first and foremost a caretaker, and that calling nudged her into providing for him as she had provided for her raggedy brood of fellow travelers.

"I've had Sura prepare your hut, and there's food in the main dining hall waiting for you." He nodded in thanks, his coronet gleaming in the late rays.

"I don't know how to thank you for…" he hung his head and gestured to his ship and his belongings. She smiled easily and touched a hand to his sleeve.

"Your message was sufficiently cryptic, Zuko, but you've been such a great help over the years… if there's anything we can do – anything _I_ can do – all you have to do is ask." Their friendship had developed into this easy way of being; months passed where the group was split up, but when its members came together, it was always with the mixed emotions of nostalgia and contentment. He followed her to a fair-sized ice hut and waited as she pulled aside the flap.

"Here you go, home sweet home for a little while!" She turned to go inside and clapped her hands to her waist. "The main room is where you'll sleep and work and, if you feel like it, take meals," she explained. "There's a shelf over there," – she motioned to a built-in ice shelf – "that has a futon rolled up and some extra blankets." A woman came out of a little recessed alcove to join them in the main room.

"Oh!" said Katara. "Good. Sura, this is Fire Lord Zuko; he and his retinue will be staying here indefinitely." She turned to face the man. "Zuko, Sura is the only one I trust around here besides my family. If you need anything, tell one of us or tell her, and we'll get it right away." The girl was younger than Katara, in her late teens, but her blue eyes paled in comparison to Katara's and she hung her hands awkwardly.

"Thank you," he said to her shortly and addressed to Katara. "Are you sure it's ok if…?" The waterbender looked at him deeply, holding his gaze. Belatedly, he noticed that she was not wearing her mother's necklace, nor was she wearing her own betrothal necklace. Outside, she had been wearing a parka and he couldn't tell; inside, she had shed the overcoat. Her neck looked painfully bare. She noted his observation and pinked, unconsciously raising her hand to her collarbones.

"Come on," she urged. "Food time." She herded him outside and to the hut in the center of the village. A plume of smoke was snaking its way out of a hole in the center of the roof, and the clearest of ice blocks served as tiny windows embedded deeply in the hut's walls. He opened the flap and waited until Katara had entered before he followed inside. A long table loaded with food was set up for them. Two lonely chairs were placed at either end of the table, and Katara clucked disapprovingly.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you? I won't be able to hear you across the table." He nodded in affirmation and cavalierly moved the chair for her. He waited until Katara sat down before seating himself. Regarding the waterbender carefully, he took the napkin from before him and spread it over his lap. His manners were stiff and formal, the result of years of etiquette lessons and state dinners. Katara raised her eyebrows at him.

"Is there anything you'd like to try first? We don't have sea prune mash today," – here Zuko made a very un-lord-like face – "but we do have a seal stew and salted cod. There's some spiced rice as well, courtesy of your own trade ships." She smiled at him and waited, apparently meaning to serve him.

"You don't have to serve me, Katara, we're not traveling together anymore." He didn't mean it the way it came out, but he saw the shadow cross her face and instantly regretted the statement. Her incredible capacity for handling idiots, him specifically, was demonstrated when she swiped his plate and looked him straight in the eye.

"You're in the Southern Water Tribe, now," she stated. "Our guests do not go hungry." She loaded up his plate with a bit of everything, pushed it toward him, and sat back in her chair looking satisfied.

"Besides, if you're hungry, how can you tell me why you're here?" He choked a little on his food, and the girl grinned and proceeded to serve herself.

"_Dear Katara_," she quoted, a touch dramatically. "_I know it has been nearly ten years since I have needed your help. I do not wish to burden you, but I don't know what else to do. If you're agreeable, I will get on the next ship to the South Pole. Regards, Fire Lord Zuko._" She finished the narration with a flourish of her hand mimicking his signature. "Not very descriptive, eh Sparky?" His old nickname made him smile, and he hastily swallowed his food to bring Katara up-to-date.

"Do you remember that I used to visit my fa- Ozai after my coronation and his imprisonment?" Katara nodded, mouth full, and he pushed on. "Did I ever tell you why?" She shook her head no, hair loopies swinging.

"I was asking for information about my mother." It was Katara's turn to choke on her food; he had told her the story of his mother, her treachery in return for her children, Azulon's death and Ozai's ascent to the throne. Somewhere in the telling, she remembered Iroh's pained face, tearing up, as he remembered his deep mourning for his brave fallen son.

"Well, he finally told me something, although I think he was mocking me. He knows he doesn't have long left." A war tribunal had been established, and as a major proponent and ruling advocate of the war, Ozai had been sentenced to death for his "crimes against the people and Spirits." The tribunal had consisted of ten representatives from each nation, and they had handed down their verdict as readily as Ozai had waged war.

"What did he say?" asked Katara, food forgotten on the table before her. "Where is your mother?" Zuko sighed and leaned back, scratching his head; the more comfortable postures reminded Katara that once upon a time, she and this man had shared the back of a furry beast and slept less than ten feet from each other. Her cheeks pinked inappropriately.

"Ozai said, '_She is alive, of course, unless the cold or her loneliness has killed her. She cannot get away from her isolation, but neither can anyone get to her. Her only supplies come from the surrounding village._' After that, he spat on me; but before giving me his back he smiled cruelly through the bars. '_You failed in your quest for the Avatar, so you changed sides in the end. What will happen if you fail to find your mother?_'" He shuddered slightly, looking into the distance, seeing a far-off moment as though from a telescope. Katara put her dark hand over his light one, bringing him back.

"So why do you need my help?" She asked gently, trying to read his face. He readjusted his expression to look at her squarely.

"My mother is alone in a cold place that cannot be reached ," he said. "None of my sources in the Fire Nation found any record of any such place. I was hoping you could help me here." She nodded thoughtfully, taking a swig of the black mead she'd served herself. She squinted, her mouth puckering, and the Fire Lord looked at her questioningly.

"It's- cold-" she choked out, after swallowing it with great effort. "Let me call someone to serve some warm." She was halfway out of her seat when he took her cup and handed it to her. The drink was steaming softly, seemingly out of place in the ice hut.

"Firebender, remember?" he teased lightly, and she sat down sheepishly to take another swig.

"So, can you help me?" Her eyes twinkled fiercely, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile reminiscent of the old traveling days.

"Am I Katara of the Water Tribe?" she asked, putting down her cup. "Of course I can help you. Turn in for the night; I'll go ask Kamala for some maps and get right to work." His brow furrowed in inquiry.

"If you visited more often, you'd know," chided Katara softly, a tinge of sadness appearing in her eyes. "Dad remarried about eight years ago. When he died, he passed his personal holdings to her." She said this without malice or envy, and he wondered what kind of woman Kamala must be that she did not strike a sour chord with Katara after marrying her father.

"I'm sorry, Katara," he said, his half-voice catching. "I know I wrote to you, but I'm sorry I was not able to attend Chief Hakoda's funeral." Katara's eyes filled with tears, and she turned away from him abruptly.

"It's been so hard," she admitted, her voice wavery with unvoiced sadness. "It was a little better when Sokka was here… but he has his own life now, and it isn't fair of me to wish him here when he has a family in Kyoshi. " She took a deep breath and tried to keep her shoulders from shaking. "And Gran-Gran is gone, too, with Master Pakku… so it's just me, here, no family, just responsibility. I've been leading alone for six years, and it's just been so hard…" She let the tears go, and Zuko moved awkwardly to put an arm around her shoulder. Her smooth face had turned blotchy with tears, and a deep canyon had formed between her brows. Her sleeve had gone dark with the crying. It was only when Zuko put a calming hand on her forearm that she snuffled to a stop and looked at him.

"I'm sorry – it happens every so often – I know that's no excuse…" she trailed off lamely, and Zuko withdrew his hand.

"You forget that I heard you crying by yourself all of those nights when we traveled," he said in a low voice. "I heard you cry the night you let your mother's killer live." Katara looked at him, eyes wide, but said nothing.

"You'll have some company now, and my soldiers can help the village." _At least while you're here_, nagged a little voice in his head, but he promptly squashed it. "Maybe I'm not the only one that needs to turn in for the night," he added gently. "Why don't we start tomorrow?" She nodded, rather miserably in his view, and pushed away from the table.

"Come on, I'll take you back to your hut." He followed her without a word, only returning her "good-night" as she left him at his door. He watched her back grow smaller as she headed back toward the center of the village, and a small part of him wondered how she could handle her entire tribe alone when he needed the aid of an advisor from every part of his Nation. Shoulders sagging, he turned into the hut and saw that the futon had already been laid out for him, warming bricks placed near the pillow and at the bottom of the blanket. _Better get some sleep_, he said, Ozai's cruel sneer invading his thoughts. _Tomorrow, I'm going to find my mother._

Katara made her way back toward the center of the village, turning an abrupt left at the center hut. Her feet took her to her father's old hut, the home he had made with his wife after the war. Her spine tingled strangely as she approached the flap, but the hut's single inhabitant had seemingly expected her, and a pale hand pushed aside the leather and welcomed her in.

"Hello, Katara," said Hakoda's widow pleasantly. "I had a feeling you might pay me a visit this evening." The woman smiled, her glassy, clouded eyes not quite focusing on where she stood. She moved through the hut easily for a blind woman, her hands landing on a metal pot and tea leaves.

"Hi Kamala," replied the waterbender. "Do you need help?" The woman raised her eyebrows, the closest to sarcasm she would ever get, and shook her head.

"Sit down, and tell me why you're here while I make some tea." Katara obliged, taking a moment to observe the woman while she scooped leaves. Her silky black hair was wound up in elaborate braids and her eyebrows, finely shaped, hovered over misty eyes that had once been grey. Fine cheekbones created a face worthy of any statue in the Earth King's gardens, although thin lines around her eyes and lips betrayed her age. Her dyed-blue deerskin dress was embroidered with delicate snowflakes and sinuous fish, dotted all around with lapis lazuli. She knew the woman had done the handiwork herself, unseeing, and for a moment envied that talent.

"I gather you didn't come visit to stare," prodded Kamala gently, and the waterbender smiled sheepishly.

"No, I didn't, she said, happy to finally receive the teacup Kamala handed her. "I was actually here about some of dad's maps." The woman nodded and settled herself down on a cushion, prompting Katara to move on with the story.

"Zuko – that is, Fire Lord Zuko – came to me today because he had information about his mother. As far as he knew until recently, she was either dead or banished; he hasn't seen her since his grandfather died." Kamala looked intrigued, and gripped her cup a little tighter.

"He thinks she may be in one of the Tribes," concluded Katara. "His father gave him a clue to follow." Kamala smiled serenely, something Katara had always liked about her.

"All of your father's maps are in the shelf in his strategy room," said Kamala. "You should take them back to your hut." She waved a hand in front of her eyes and smiled ruefully. "They do me no good here, and you could use the old hunting maps and trade maps in your journey." Katara smiled gratefully, remembered the woman couldn't see her, and clasped one of her hands.

"Thank you," she said, smiling, and stood. Rushing to the strategy room, she nearly tripped over the single step up and found a leather bag she could store all of the scrolls in. Being in the presence of her father's things, in a room where he had spent much time, overwhelmed her a little; the calm Kamala had imparted to her fled the moment Katara's shoulder brushed Hakoda's old parka. Choking back a sob, Katara took the scrolls and ran back out, almost running over Hakoda's widow in the process. She calmed herself.

"I'm sorry, Kamala. I just…" the woman's mouth turned down sadly, but her nod was understanding.

"It's hard for me," said the older woman. "I can't imagine what it is like for you."Seizing the opportunity, Katara brought up an idea that had been rejected time and time again by the widow.

"Then why don't you move in with me?" she asked eagerly. "That way you're not alone in this big hut!" Before Kamala even opened her mouth, Katara knew the answer.

"Katara, this hut is all I have left of your father," said the woman. "I know my way here, I don't want to move." Her words were gentle, but Katara's heart still sank a little bit at the thought of the blind woman living alone. Regardless, she gave her a hug as she made her way to the door.

"Thanks, Kamala," she said sincerely, and made her way back to the main hut, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath of the sharp South Pole air. The hairs on her neck prickled and a small streak of adrenaline pumped through her body. The very air she breathed seemed to tell her that the time was ripe for adventure again – and that she held that adventure in her own hands.

"Thank you, Zuko," she whispered into the night. The wind picked up and stole her words, but she laughed all of a sudden.

_It'll be just like the old days._

She made her way into the hut, sealed the flap, and went to her own table to spread out the maps and begin her night's work.

...

Author's note: **Sura** is an Inuit name meaning green leaf/new life. **Kamala** is a Tibetan name meaning lotus.


	2. Scarred

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 2: Scarred

She stumbled into his hut while he was breaking his fast, and his heart leapt; she looked as though she hadn't slept at all the night prior, under eye shadows dark and lips cracked from worrying, but her eyes sparkled in that way she had and he knew that she had a clue.

"Look at this," said the waterbender, disregarding his meal to slam down a map on the table. "What do you see here?" At first he had no clue what she was talking about, but her finger traced a line on the map and he suddenly realized he was looking at a mountain path painted onto the rough paper. His mouth formed a little _o_, and Katara bounced excitedly.

"He said she could not be reached and she could not get out, but that her food comes from a nearby village, correct?" she asked, barely containing herself. Zuko nodded, his heart speeding up at the thought of finally, _finally_ laving a lead.

"Well," said Katara, "there's nothing on the map that indicates there's a place no one can reach; that's understandable, because if no one can reach, no one can map it." Her mouth curved up and she traced the path to its end. "But this," she continued, "is an old hunting path. The polar leopards killed off most of our game many years ago, and inhabit the entire area surrounding the path. At the end of the path, there's a small village – or there used to be – that called itself Tanarak." She looked at him.

"It's not for certain, but I think it's a good start."

Anyone close to the Fire Lord, aside from his Uncle, would swear in a court of law that he never smiled. Now, however, his face stretched into a grin that would have put Sokka's to shame.

"This village," he said, unconsciously wrapping his hand around her wrist, "Is it part of you tribe? How soon can we get there?" Katara bit her lip and averted her eyes.

"Here's the thing," she began, and his stomach dropped through the floor. "Tanarak was established a long time ago by a woman named Nawang as a place for people… thathatedbenders." She finished in a rush, but the sting remained. "That was a long time ago, far in my peoples' past, and since that first generation, only deserters of the Tribe have wandered off to Tanarak. It is said that if a bender goes there, her malignant and vengeful spirit will poison their bending and kill them." Zuko's face was incredulous, and his grip on her wrist tightened.

"You can't really believe that…" Katara looked at him haughtily.

"I have met the Avatar in my lifetime; I have met the Painted Lady. You have met dragons and your past is intertwined with that of Avatar Roku." Her eyes crackled. "You should take the spirits seriously." Zuko hung his head and released her wrist, staring at the cold food before him.

"That said," began Katara, and he looked up sharply, "if you're willing to make the journey, we can talk strategy on our way up and figure out what to do once we're there. We have a good several days at best." He thought of cheering, but his mind got stuck on the _we_ and he opened his mouth instead.

"There's no _we_, Katara," he said, rushing to finish his sentence before he died from her venomous look. "Your people need you. I can't put you in danger." She rolled her eyes and rolled up the maps.

"So I suppose it's perfectly logical that the ruler of perhaps the strongest nation in the world goes on this journey through unfamiliar terrain to a destination where he is likely to be killed. That makes wonderful sense, Zuko. I'll be in my hut with the maps when you're ready to see it my way." She stood and stalked out with the maps, leaving him alone to finish his already-cold meal.

"She hasn't changed at all," he muttered, and from outside, the shriek of a messenger hawk caught his attention. A Fire Nation soldier stuck his head into the flap and bowed awkwardly.

"Your Highness, a message from General Iroh." Zuko stood and grabbed the scroll, unrolling it as he waved his man off.

"_My dear nephew,_" began the message. "_I hope this message finds you well and in the company of the lovely Lady Katara._" Something about the way his uncle wrote that struck him oddly, but he pushed off the thought and continued reading. "_All is well in the Fire Nation. The Avatar and his son were recently here for a round of negotiations between the Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation. It was unusual in a sense, to see a monk with his son, but Tenzin is the spitting image of his father and seems to happily share in his nomadic life._"

Zuko shook his head; Aang's son Tenzin was a mystery to many, and at five years old was traveling the world with his father. Nobody knew who the boy's mother was, and since he looked exactly like Aang, nobody dared fathom a guess. For a moment, a betrothal necklace of orange silk and carved jade fluttered across his memories, but he turned back to the letter to break his speculation.

"_I know your father gave you a clue about Ursa, my nephew. I ask you again, as I asked you before. Come home, and send our men to look for her. I ask you this not as a regent, but as an Uncle, and as a father. You endanger yourself, if I know my brother, and though you have some men with you, you still insist on going yourself. Please, nephew, come home._

"_On a lighter note; I have purchased a sample of tea from the Earth Kingdom that tickles my fancy. I have sent some for both you and Lady Katara on the next trade ship to the South Pole._" Zuko snorted at the thought of his Uncle sending him tea; it seemed that the man never changed.

_Come home, and send our men to look for her… you endanger yourself._

Zuko rolled up the scroll and squared his shoulders; he had not waited ten years, followed hundreds of false leads, and come this far to back out now. He understood his uncle's concerns, but this was just something he had to do.

_Zuko, please, my love, listen to me. Everything I've done, I've done to protect you. Remember this Zuko. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are._

"I know who I am now, mother," he whispered to his empty room. "And I'm going to put that knowledge to use." Without stopping to think, he yanked on his black silk pants and shirt, wound the black band around his waist, pulled on boots and put on his coat and a heavy parka Katara had given him. Marching with intention, he made his way to the main hut, swept the flap open, and followed a flickering, watery light to what appeared to be Katara's study.

"I knew you'd change your mind," said a husky voice behind him, and he jumped several feet into the air. Turning, he regarded the girl – woman – smirking at him, dressed in black silk herself with a black tie restraining her thick brown hair. She had a parka in one hand, her water skins and a bag of maps in the other, and she was looking at him expectantly.

"Are we going to do this, or not?" He smiled despite himself, because something told him he was about to embark on something bigger than he had imagined.

"Grab the supplies," she said, pointing to a sack on the floor. "Let's get out of here." Pulling on her parka, she made her way out the door and went around the back of hut to where a sledge, complete with two snorting buffalo-yaks, awaited them.

"Being the Chief has its perks," commented Zuko drily, and Katara rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you'd know, Prince Silk Robes," she retorted. Zuko had to laugh at that because it was true; all of Fire Nation Royalty wore the highest quality silk robes, despite the heat in the Nation. Katara had declared it to be utter stupidity right after his coronation, and Zuko was mentally inclined to agree, but he'd never say anything.

They had settled into the sledge and started to move out of the village when the Fire Lord struck up a conversation.

"I got a letter from my uncle," he said, watching the snowy landscape whiz by. Katara perked up and turned to look at him, never slackening the reins she had in her hands.

"Oh, how is Iroh? He came to visit last year, and his 'gifts' tided us through one of the most brutal winters my Tribe has ever seen." Zuko smiled; it seemed like something his uncle would do.

"He is fine. I have appointed him regent while I am away, and I'm sure he is doing a better job of ruling by far." Katara opened her mouth to disagree, but was cut off by his continued narrative. "He says Aang was there, with his son, presiding over a round of negotiations." At the mention of the monk's name, Katara averted her eyes and worried her lip; she quickly snapped out of it, though, hoping Zuko wouldn't notice. No such luck of course.

"Katara – if you don't want to answer it's fine – but what happened between you and Aang?" The girl slumped into her seat, still pointedly not looking at him, and yanked the reins a little roughly.

"Nothing happened," she said finally, stubbornly. "We just grew apart." In that they were alike, thought Zuko; as adamantly as Katara claimed nothing had happened, Aang claimed it was simply a divergence of paths. For the longest time Katara had worn the betrothal necklace the monk had given her the day after his coronation, but now she did not, and he noticed her hand wander aimlessly to the spot on her parka over where the necklace would have resided.

"You never married…" he prompted, and she finally looked at him.

"No, we never married," she conceded. "It was just never the right time, with him being the Avatar and Sokka wanting to start his own family. My ambassador duties and rebuilding efforts didn't help, either, and eventually we just drifted apart." She shut her mouth; this was the most she'd ever said to anyone about her postwar relationship with Aang, despite much prodding and countless interrogations from well-meaning friends and family. He could see that something was still troubling her, but she had sealed away that part of herself, and so for a while he was content to watch the scenery fly by.

"What about you, Fire Lord?" she asked, seemingly hours later. "I've heard no formal announcement of an engagement, much less of a royal marriage." Zuko grimaced and met her eyes with his own pained ones.

"Mai and I… I guess you could say that we too grew apart," he said, echoing her earlier statement. "She wanted status and titles and land and power. I wanted… what my uncle had. What Avatar Roku had." Katara's eyes softened.

"She didn't even want to bear me children," he laughed bitterly. "She would tell me, 'once we're married, you can leave that job to one of my cousins, or one of Ty Lee's sisters, somebody of good Fire Nation breeding. I don't see myself ballooning to a disproportionate size for the sake of a child.'" He mimicked Mai's dry tone perfectly, accentuating his own bitterness.

"Oh Zuko, I'm sorry," said Katara. "How could a woman not want children? Especially with all of the luxuries you have, you could provide those children a wonderful life." Her cheeks glowed as she continued on the fantasy. "I would love to…" she trailed off abruptly, a shocked, hurt look on her face, not spilling anymore.

"You'd love to…?" asked Zuko, but she shook her head.

"Visit the Fire Nation again," she finished lamely, and Zuko saw that he wasn't going get any more out of her. They had been on the sledge all day, but the sun showed no signs of sinking; the hazy light reflected from the snow hurt his eyes if he failed to shield them. Katara seemed familiar with the area, but to him it was all the same – endless iterations of snow, hills, and the occasional gnarled tree making its convoluted way toward the ever-shining sun.

Another several hours passed in complete silence, until Katara pointed out ahead of them.

"See that mountain range?" she asked, and at first he did not; once he focused beyond the backs of the buffalo-yaks, however, he could faintly discern a line separating the alleged mountain range from the painfully bright sky. He nodded.

"We'll stop in a cave at the foot of those hills. Beyond that, it's polar leopard territory." The mere utterance of the word _leopard_ sent an irrational chill of fear down his spine.

_Wake up, Zuko. You've handled your sister before. You're a master firebender, the Avatar's teacher. _Somehow, the thought did not buoy him, and he sank into his seat a little to await the ranges.

They were farther than he thought.

The sun was already sinking when they reached the foot of the mountains, and it took another hour to find the half-hidden cave. The buffalo-yaks shifted uncomfortably as Katara bent snow around them and hardened it into a sort of stable. It seemed more a bubble than a stable, but as Katara had explained, it was for their own protection; she left holes for air and began to unload the sledge.

"Check inside. There should be timber left from the traders that pass through here." Zuko nodded and headed into the cave. He used his bending to produce a little flame in the palm of his hand; its flickering shadows revealed bunk-like indentations in the wall for sleeping, a basin that could be filled with snow and melted, and an alcove full of timber. The scorched cave floor in the center proved that it had been the site of fires since time immemorial. He searched a little farther in, and discovered a flap covering another little room. The scratched on the outside of the room failed to warn him, as did his light; it was too late to firebend when he saw the cruel green eyes reflected in the dark room.

The powerful creature leapt out at him, claws extended, fangs bared. Its head was reminiscent of the Earth King's bear, but its body was that of a powerful cat; it weighed what seemed a ton, and swiped an even set of gashes into Zuko's parka.

"Zuko?" called Katara from the mouth of the cave, and for a moment was met with silence. Then, the creature roared, revealing itself to Katara, and she hurriedly yanked out her water skins. She sent a barrage of icicles raining down on the beast, but it barely seemed to notice; a water whip was similarly ineffective, but the beast's focus had changed, and Zuko was able to get up and firebend.

"Take that!" he said, punching out fireballs. The creature bellowed in pain when one connected, but instead of turning around, it turned its head toward Zuko and used its paw to catch Katara off guard. She had taken off her parka at the mouth of the cave to bend, and Zuko's stomach heaved when he saw the even, bleeding stripes crossing over Katara's ribs. The creature swiped again for good measure, and the girl cried out in pain; focusing, Zuko ambushed it with a steady, hot blast of white fire, roasting its leg and sending it whimpering from the cave. Katara was on the floor, whimpering herself; he made his way over to her, lifting her head gently from the floor.

"I'm going to make a fire and boil some water," he said to her. "We need to clean that before it gets infected." The four deep cuts were already oozing blood, and Katara took in a ragged breath.

"Some company I am," she said faintly, and tried to get a handle on her bending to heal herself. It was impossible, Zuko saw, for her to heal herself if she wasn't fully conscious; he started a fire quickly, and found a stone basin he filled with snow and began to boil. The cave was soon relatively warm, and the water was boiling away when Zuko ripped a bit off his waist sash to dip into it.

"Katara," he said roughly, seeing that her eyes were fluttering. "Katara, you need to wake up. We need to get these cuts cleaned." She was struggling, he could see that, so he bodily picked her up and laid her in one of the alcove bunks. Her eyes hazy with pain, she tried to undo her sash while he drew the boiling water closer. When he returned, she had lifted up her top to just under her bust; the gashes were tinged yellow, and he could see they were nearly as deep as her ribs. He cursed and brought the rag with boiling water to each cut, one by one; the longest cut extended under her waistband. He looked at her, asking permission with his eyes, and she nodded faintly; he undid the top of her pants and pulled them down as far as he thought was decent.

The light was bad; Zuko had not realized until then, and noting a bowl built into the cave, he shot a blast of fire. It remained; he figure there must be some oil there, or seal fat, that kept it burning. Turning his face back to Katara's wound, his mouth tightened. The last gash led down, down… down into a myriad of light stretch marks, crossing an old scar almost perpendicularly. He had seen a very similar scar only once, and on his mother at that, while they had been at the beach on Ember Island.

"_Mama, why do you have a boo-boo?" A toddling Zuko waded into the beach at Ember Island, but his eyes never left the scar. Ursa, normally conservative, was wearing a pretty two-piece bandeau and skirt bathing outfit that day. A long scar crossed her midsection and sank to beneath the waistband of her skirt. Her rich laugh filled the air and she splashed Zuko lightly._

"_It's because you were such a big, strong boy; mama needed some help having you!" Little Zuko poked the scar in wonder, but the explanation seemed to agree with him, and he hadn't thought of it since._

Until now.

The scar was slightly faded but hardly seemed very old; she must have acquired it within the last decade, or he'd have seen it while sparring with her when they were teenagers. He noticed that he had involuntarily traced it with the now-lukewarm washcloth, and Katara's gaze moved from the scar to meet his questioning eyes. Her orbs filled with tears, and his heart contracted.

"Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" Katara shook her head, eyes still hazy from the pain, not letting her tears fall. He looked at her and she looked at the scar; unhappily, she let a sob escape.

"Oh, Tenzin," she murmured, voice disconsolate. "I've been a terrible mother…" Her eyes sank closed, and Zuko automatically moved to finish cleaning her wounds. His thoughts roiled.

_The Avatar and his son were recently here for a round of negotiations between the Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation. It was unusual in a sense, to see a monk with his son, but Tenzin is the spitting image of his father…_

Katara had passed out, but Zuko could not get the image of her forsaken gaze running over that long, long scar out of his head.

_Katara… what has happened to you?_

_..._


	3. The Cave

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 3: The Cave

"Avatar Aang! Have you decided to leave us again so soon?" The jolly Fire Nation Regent walked toward the airbender with the intention of waylaying him. Aang, tiredness etched into his young face, turned to face Iroh. His son clutched his hand tightly, wide grey eyes absorbing everything in sight.

"I'm sorry, Iroh," replied the Avatar. "I've heard from Toph that there's been a series of small rebellions on the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom, so that's where I'm headed next." Tenzin nodded along with his father's voice, lending a comic solemnity to the twenty-three-year-old's words. Iroh folded his hands over his belt, pondering the man-boy that stood before him. The Avatar had grown up so fast in the past decade, and his five-year-old son promised to grow just as quickly into the kind of dignified man his father had become.

"Come have some tea before you go," offered Iroh. "Perhaps I can convince you to stay until my nephew can formally see you off?" Aang was vaguely intrigued; he'd been in a whirl of trade negotiations and concession panels between the Fire Nation and Water Tribes. When the negotiations had petered off into nitpicking between the Water Tribes and some rogue colonies, Aang had been required to preside. He hadn't even picked up on the Fire Lord's absence.

"Where is Zuko?" asked Aang. "I didn't notice he was gone." Iroh hesitated for an almost imperceptible moment, but decided to divulge the truth anyway.

"He is visiting Lady Katara in the Southern Water Tribe," stated the older man. "He has a lead on his mother's whereabouts." Aang nodded silently, his grey eyes leagues away for several moments; gathering up his son, he returned his focus to Iroh.

"That's nice of you, Iroh, but I think we'd better get going. We're going to be flying for a few days, and the less time we spend on the ground, the faster we get to those rebellions." Iroh nodded pacifically, and gestured for a guard.

"Avatar Aang is departing; please have some food and goods waiting for his bison at the stables." The guard scuttled off and Aang opened his mouth to protest, but Iroh held up a hand.

"You will waste less time if you do not have to shop around for supplies." Aang could not argue his logic, and bowed to the venerated old general.

"Thank you, Uncle Iroh." He turned to his son. "Say thank you, Tenzin." The boy bowed as seriously as his father, grey eyes huge.

"Thank you, General Iroh," he said in a small voice. He made a face that sharply reminded Iroh of someone, but before he could place it, the Avatar had begun walking toward the palace stables, Tenzin in tow. Iroh had intended to see them off, but the Avatar did not seem to want company. _It's just as well_, thought Iroh. _I owe my hardheaded nephew a letter. _Whistling, he set off to his study, calling for a servant to bring him some tea. He was reminded of the delightful Earth Kingdom brew he had tried during a round of negotiations with Ba Sing Se, and thought to send some to the absentee Fire Lord. _And perhaps I should send some to Lady Katara_; he mused, and went on his way.

...

Her eyelids were heavy, so heavy, but she forced them up as the cold seeped into her limbs. _There was a polar leopard… Zuko drove him out… then what happened? _Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the cave, and she could just make out Zuko sleeping near the fire, black silk swath in hand.

_Oh, yes._

_The scratches._

_The scar._

Katara winced, remembering her injuries, and searched the cave for her water skins. She spotted them hanging on a sharp rock relatively close to her alcove, and in minutes the master waterbender was healing the gashes over her ribs and washing off the grime of the previous day. The dirty water she directed outside the cave, and she bent some clean snow into her waterskins, replacing them on the rock afterward. She adjusted her clothing to some semblance of normality and turned to face the rest of the cave.

She saw that Zuko had brought the packs in from the sled; rummaging through one, Katara found some dried seal jerky and rice, and little pouches of spices. The fire was down to embers, and Katara sent a quick look around the cave for kindling. There were two small sticks where there should have been a pile, and the mouth of the cave was effectively shut off by a heavy snowfall. Not will to risk getting lost, Katara sat back on her heels and pondered the situation. _Don't be silly_, she told herself. _You have a firebender here. _She walked over to him.

"Zuko…" she whispered, poking him gently. "Zuko, wake up. I need fire." His muscles tensed and he was quickly on his feet.

"What? What's wrong?" his eyes expertly swept the cave, looking for threats. Katara put her hands on her hips.

"Nothing's wrong," she said flatly. "I need fire." The Fire Lord looked at her, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"You woke me up for that?" Katara snorted and pointed at their measly kindling.

"Do you _want_ to eat?" she retorted. "More importantly, do you want to freeze?" He rolled his eyes and shot a strong blast of fire at the shallow pit; the cave warmed up considerably, and Katara moved around, measuring rice, snow, spices and seal jerky into a stone basin. The silence after their sarcastic exchange had grown heavy with questions he didn't want to ask and answers she didn't want to give.

"You should go get us some kindling," she said too softly. "Otherwise the fire will go out before I'm done cooking." He was about to comment that there was a blizzard outside when he remembered the niche where the snow leopard had been hiding; if it was as he thought, there was a substantial pile of dried timber in there just waiting for the travelers. He gathered some of it, stoking the fire a bit under the basin Katara was using, and put the rest of it near the packs.

"Here," said Katara gently, breaking into his thoughts moments later. She handed him a steaming bowl of food, and served herself a similar one. They chewed in silence for a moment, across the flickering fire from each other.

"Katara, how old are you?" Zuko blurted out, mentally kicking himself immediately afterward. _What's wrong with you? _His inner voice screeched. _You _never _ask a woman how old she is! Agni above, Zuko, what kind of question was-?_

"Twenty-five," answered Katara, a trace of a blush playing around her cheeks. She seemed embarrassed, more so when he failed to respond.

"I know, it's pathetic, right?" Her tone made him look at her sharply.

"I'm twenty-five, alone, and unmarried, and the outlook isn't too bright," she said bitterly. "It's a very glamorous life, similar to yours, I'm sure, Your Highness." The last line was not a little sarcastic, and the Fire Lord recoiled slightly.

"I'm sorry I asked," he muttered, and Katara shot him a crucifying glance.

"What about you, Fire Lord? How old are you?" Zuko almost laughed. If she thought her life was pathetic, wait until she heard…

"I'm twenty-seven," he admitted, shaggy hair covering his eyes. "Feel free to laugh now." Katara pondered his response for a minute, chewing on a stubborn piece of seal jerky. She finally swallowed.

"I thought you were older," she said finally, scooping some rice. "You always acted older." Zuko almost laughed, but thought the better of it and drained his bowl instead.

"No, I'm twenty-seven and just as unmarried and alone as you are. And I have a council of elders behind me raging for an heir, to boot." The silence returned as the pair basked in each other's solitude. Some time passed; Katara finished her bowl, and wordlessly cleaned both hers and his with snow. The blizzard outside had slowed, and the mouth of the cave was slushy with melted flakes.

"We can move on tonight," declared Katara finally. "Polar leopards only hunt during sunrise and sunset; if we move between the horizons, we can make it to Tanarak in a few days." Zuko nodded absently and began setting up his bunk over Katara's.

"Here," said Katara, and she reached up to his bunk to place a soft animal skin. The effort pulled her top up a smidge, and the horrible scar showed barely an inch of its length above her waistband.

"Katara," began Zuko.

"Zuko," said Katara at the same time.

They smiled, and Zuko gestured to her. "Ladies first." She bowed her head in thanks and passed him another skin.

"Thanks for taking care of me back there," she said sincerely. "That polar leopard was serious business." The Fire Lord, not used to thanks, scratched the back of his neck and averted his gaze. There was once a time when this girl, this _woman_ would never have thought of apologizing to him; but years had mellowed out the past, and he was reminded that he'd worked hard for this forgiveness.

"You're welcome," he muttered, and leaned down to close a sack. The silence perplexed Katara, and she decided to speak up again.

"What were you going to say?" she inquired, rather regretting it once the words were out of her mouth. The Fire Lord turned a strange mottled color, suddenly realizing that he had been about to ask the waterbender a very personal question. He shook his head.

"It was nothing."

Katara sighed and threw herself into her alcove. Her eyes squeezed shut with pain, and her fingers unconsciously traced that too-long scar. She had never told anyone about it; Aang was the only one that needed to know, and he would take it to his grave as per his own wishes.

"You can ask about the scar," Katara blurted suddenly. "You're the only one besides Aang that's ever seen it." She didn't know what had come over her, but as she thought about it she realized she didn't want to take it back – someone needed to know. Five years of silence and pain, secrecy and evasion were too much for any one person to handle. _Except maybe for _Aang, she thought bitterly, and watched as Zuko colored unexpectedly, and launched himself into the other alcove.

The Fire Lord was a trained politician. He was well-mannered, intelligent, and evasive, all traits he had diligently studied to be a good leader to his wonderful Nation. For this reason, he tossed around questions in his head, and finally decided to go neutral.

"I know what kind of scar it is," he admitted. "I just don't know if you want to tell me why you have it." Katara jutted her head out from her alcove.

"You know what kind of scar it is?" she asked, weary eyes suddenly wide and deep blue with confusion. He could almost laugh at her expression.

"My mom told me once she 'needed help having me' – she had the same kind of scar in the same place. I don't think it's that uncommon. I'm just surprised you…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish his sentence. Katara moved back into her alcove, unconsciously rubbing a hand on her abdomen.

"Remember your coronation?" she asked, out of the blue. "It was such a beautiful day, and we were all so happy. And young, do you remember how young we were?" Despite himself, Zuko smiled; it had been a wonderful day. The war was over, his father was in prison, his sister had been committed and he was at last the ruler of the Fire Nation. He could still see the red banners floating, and taste his uncle's tea, and feel the beaming smiles of the ministers and the people on the street as he made his way in procession back to the palace.

"Aang asked me to marry him that day." Katara's voice broke through his thoughts, neither happy nor sad, and he thought about what she had said. He vaguely remembered the airbender and "his" waterbender disappearing to the balcony, and her coming back blushing strongly, a different betrothal necklace around her neck. What he sharply remembered was her brother's overreaction, and Iroh's pensive look after the couple had left mere days later to start their life together. Katara was silent for several long moments, but Zuko wasn't brave enough to say anything.

"We went to live in the Southern Air Temple," she continued finally. "It was a simple arrangement; I had my rooms, he had his. There was plenty of leftover space, so when Aang began his back-and-forth trips to the other nations, I cleaned up the rooms little by little, and started inviting the closest villagers for healing and basic medical instructions." Zuko nodded to himself; he could see how the girl that had been a mother to their motley group would take it upon herself to mother nearby villages.

"To make a long story very short, more and more people began to arrive at the temple. Groups from other nations would make the trek with their elderly and their ill, expecting healing and a hot meal and shelter. I've never been good at saying no; I helped all of the ones I could, and tried to ease the pain of the ones I couldn't - and the pain their families inevitably experienced." Her voice broke a little, and Zuko's heart went out to her. She had always been the first one to put herself in the line of hurt and grief for other people, and while they had traveled, when he heard her cry herself to sleep after many a trying day, he had wondered how she didn't simply collapse from the weight of it.

"Aang thought it was a good idea, what I was doing. He said it was good that I was keeping busy. His trips never got any shorter, and when he was at the temple, he was busy sleeping or bending to keep his form. Our sparring went from little to nothing, and although we were betrothed, it began to feel – to me at least – as though we were strangers.

"It was about two years after your coronation that Aang finally remained at the temple for more than one week at a time. He came to me after the second week, and told me that he had spent days meditating and communing with his past lives. He was ready to marry me.

"But I wasn't ready."

Katara let the statement hang in the air and took a deep breath, off-handedly pondering where the overflow of words had come from. Besides sporadic letters to her brother and some conversations with Kamala, most of her speaking in the last decade had been dedicated to healing, helping, rebuilding and leading – all far from personal endeavors.

"Two years," rasped Zuko thoughtfully.

"What?" Katara, lost in her own narrative, hadn't heard the comment.

"Two years is a long time," said Zuko in his half-voice. "I don't know if I would have waited." There were many possible awkward ramifications of that statement, but Katara took the Fire Lord's words in the most straightforward way; as a man, Zuko would not have waited two years to wed his betrothed.

"It was a very long time," agreed Katara. "And that is why we never married."

"You see, by the time he came to me, he had come to the conclusion that _he_ was ready to be married to me. There was no thought anywhere about what I wanted at the time – for that matter, there had been no thought as to what I wanted for two years before that point. I'd had plenty of time to think about it, and had come to the conclusion that I could not be the wife of the Avatar. An eternity of years like the ones I had just lived through, alone and overworked, and often heartbroken for my patients, stretched ahead of me. I just couldn't do it." Katara turned over in her alcove, pressing her eyes shut once again. Above her, Zuko shifted to a more comfortable position.

"What did you tell him?" he asked finally, unable to restrain himself. The cave had grown darker, and his eyes were luminous in the light from the dying fire. The waterbender sighed deeply; she had always regretted her words to Aang – not for their effect on him, but rather for the outcome as it had affected her. It was entirely selfish and she knew it; but then, she had ten years of pent-up bitterness to get out, and now was the time to let it free.

"I told him exactly what I felt. I explained the impossibility of living forever as lonely and sad as I had been for those two years. I had often offered to accompany him, but when we began living at the temple he made it clear that as his future wife he wanted no harm done to me, and traveled with me rarely. I told him how I resented that, and how I couldn't bear being away from my family and my bending. He seemed to understand, because he kept nodding, but when I finally told him I couldn't marry him, he exploded into a fit of fury and said that I didn't understand the responsibility of being the Avatar's wife, and that if I just _stuck with it_ for a little while I could be happy with him. He kept yelling at me, and finally broke down crying, and I was just standing there – I didn't know what to say." Tears had sprung to Katara's eyes, and she rushed to wipe them off before they could freeze there. Her voice lowered several octaves, and her throat threatened to constrict with every word.

"That was the first and only night we spent together," said Katara, and Zuko quickly caught the significance of the _together_. "I felt I could at least do that for him, because-"

"You were going to leave," completed Zuko a bit astonished. "You left the Avatar." Pressed into the bunk as he was, Zuko was still genuinely awed at the strength of the woman lying in the rock alcove below him. She had survived the loss of both parents, a devastating war, repeated invasions of her Tribe and, as he now knew, emotional neglect at the hands of the Avatar.

"Yes," she whispered softly. "I left. I wrote him a message and left it on my side of the futons we had pushed together, along with the betrothal necklace. I took a single last look at the temple and fled; it wasn't until several months later that I discovered I was pregnant."

"With Tenzin?" asked Zuko, and Katara made an affirmative noise.

"With Tenzin," she assented. "I spent the last four months of my pregnancy hiding out at home, with no one but Kamala for company. It was her that helped me deliver Tenzin – she is the most gifted non-bending healer I had ever had the honor to meet – and it was her that prevented me from dying when we discovered that Tenzin was upside down and twisted around the umbilical cord." She let out a slow exhale and stroked the scar again.

"But how – the Avatar travels with his son," tested Zuko. "Why is the boy not with you, his mother?" Katara gripped the sides of her alcove, having come to the root of her pain at last.

"Because my son is an airbender," Katara said finally, releasing her grip. "And I can do nothing for him if I am not married to his father. I can't travel with them, I can't teach him to bend, and I certainly can't proceed with my own life apart from Aang's with a little son there to see his broken family." Zuko almost snorted. _Broken family?_

"So givining him over to Aang was the better option?" The comment was not quite derisive, but it was dangerously close to snide, and Katara frowned.

"Under the terms of our agreement, Aang is Tenzin's sole guardian until my son is fifteen. Then, Aang will tell him about me and where to find me, so that he can do that if he so chooses. It's not a perfect arrangement," admitted Katara softly, sadly.

"I'm… I'm sorry," said Zuko huskily. Katara sighed and threw herself off the alcove. She busied herself packing supplies back into the sacks, and Zuko, noticing that the sun had very nearly set, emulated her.

"It's funny," said the waterbender musingly. Zuko shot her a sidelong glance.

"What's funny?" he asked, genuinely wondering what about any of what she had said was funny. Katara turned her eyes on him, hefting a sack over her shoulder.

"That because I did not love a man once, I've somehow ended up without the ability to love a man since." Zuko couldn't see what was funny about that at all; it made him almost pity her, except that he knew voicing that particular opinion would get his gut speared by icicles.

"Katara…" he began, not knowing where to go with it.

"Let's go," she said, and they left the cave into a dark wilderness to begin their mountain trek to Tanarak.

...

Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter is so dialog-intensive; I had to get a lot of exposition out of the way so that the story can proceed smoothly from here. Thanks to everyone for reading, and please review if you get the chance! Xoxo Lady Asvin


	4. Tanarak

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 4: Tanarak

Zuko couldn't help it. As they made their way through absolute blackness, he was thinking about everything Katara had said. It was testament to her incredible personal strength that she was still leading her tribe, that she was still as caring as she had been… that she had let her son go. As he followed her through the unfamiliar territory, Zuko suddenly realized that his reasons for not marrying Mai seemed paltry in the face of the waterbender's grave awareness of her situation with the Avatar.

Katara stopped moving suddenly, causing the Fire Lord to crash into her back unceremoniously.f

"What-"

"Shhhhh," she hissed, and motioned for him to crouch lower. "Look," she whispered. There was absolutely nothing to see; they were hiding behind a hard snowbank in pitch blackness. Presently, Zuko realized that brooding shapes in the darkness were moving, and as he strained to make them out, he saw the flashing of many pairs of green and golden eyes roaming the gentle slope of the mountainside.

"Polar leopards?" he whispered as loudly as he dared, and Katara nodded furiously.

"Out eating. After sunset." This obviously meant something to Katara, because she was almost spitting the words at him. He returned to observing the flashing eyes, training his vision on the spot around which the pack seemed to be treading.

"We have to get closer," he said. "So we can see what they're eating." Katara grabbed his arm in agreement, pulling him quietly through a detour of underbrush. When they stopped, Katara laid flat on her stomach; they had come to ground blanketed with pine needles, and when she motioned him down he followed suit, the two edging forward until they could see under the low scrub that was providing their cover. The sight was chilling; the clearing was slightly illuminated by the thin moon , and slumped on the ground was a sickeningly human-like figure purple with blood and disfigured by the hungry polar leopards.

"Spirits," whispered Katara in a faintly nauseated voice. Although he'd never admit it, the slight roll in Zuko's stomach made him mentally inclined to agree with her. He turned slightly toward Katara, not liking the tension in her muscles or the look on her face.

"Katara-" he began, but it was already hopeless. Her mind was made up, the determination hard on her face.

"We can't just leave him there," she insisted. "Nobody deserves to die like that!" Zuko's exhalation melted the ice under his nose.

"I'm pretty sure he's already dead," muttered the Fire Lord, but it was too late; Katara was signaling him up and making her way around the clearing. It was bad enough, in Zuko's view, that they couldn't see the animals except for their glowing eyes; it was worse that his _wonderful_ traveling companion had decided to throw them into the middle of the pack to save someone that was, in his opinion, long dead.

They were too close to the clearing to speak now. Katara motioned him to stop, pressed her back against his, and grabbed his wrists to imitate bending back-to-back as a team. He sqeezed her hand in understanding and a thrill of adrenaline rushed through his body.

_You don't remember her? You will soon. Trust me._

This fight was long overdue.

With a feral yell, Katara rushed at the pack, raining icicles down on the slobbering beasts. While the leopards tried to duck the sharp projectiles, Zuko razed the floor with white-hot fire, burning their paws. They roared in pain and turned to attack the benders, but Katara was committed to driving them away. She sent a water whip lashing at their ankles, and before Zuko realized they were fighting in tangent, he had sent a fire whip close to the heads of the pack. In moments, they had two remaining leopards to fight; but Katara, ever mindful of living creatures, merely sent them packing by freezing the ends of their tails and ears.

"That should teach them," she muttered, and went over to where the person lay in a pool of his own blood. It wasn't a pretty sight; the man was lashed mercilessly, his clothes hanging in rags off of his striped back. His fingers and toes were swollen with frostbite, and when Katara gently turned him over, his face was similarly disfigured.

"Zuko… look at this," she said, her voice thin. He looked at the spot on the man's chest where Katara was pointing, and realized that the raised, rippled skin was familiar. The man had been burned – branded, as it appeared.

"Benders be warned," read Zuko aloud, and the message raised the hairs on the back of his neck. There was an unfamiliar symbol under the threat, an evergreen tree within a waning moon.

"Think of it as a welcoming party from Tanarak," said Zuko dryly, but Katara wasn't paying attention. Instead, she was searching the man.

"I wonder what element he bended," she said softly, but the man's face was too swollen and the night was too black to tell his ethnicity from his physical features.

"Come on," she said abruptly, standing up. "Let's give this man a proper funeral." Zuko rolled his eyes and put a hand on Katara's shoulder.

"Katara, from the looks of it, nobody is going to miss him. I say we leave him here." Katara turned to face him, mouth tight.

"He's Fire Nation. Would you want one of your own people left in this freezing winter to rot, forgotten, until somebody picks his bones from polar leopard droppings?" Zuko started, the image not sitting well with him.

"How do you know he's Fire Nation?" asked the Fire Lord. "You can't tell from his face." Katara reached for the man's hand and held it up.

"Give me a light," she said, and Zuko obliged. The little flame dancing in the palm of his hand illuminated a Fire Nation signet ring embedded in one grossly distended finger. It was nothing special, a simple clerk's ring with the national insignia, but finding it so close to an anti-bending town made both Zuko and Katara nervous. It was going to be that much harder to infiltrate the town and see if it was indeed responsible for his mother's food supply.

_And if it isn't? _A little voice asked him.

_Then it's back to square one._

Katara looked at him.

"Please, let's give him a proper pyre. We can't just leave him here." Zuko sighed and nodded, and the two began to drag lichens and evergreens together over the man's body. It occurred to Zuko that a waterbender and a firebender were uniquely suited to starting fires in odd situations; Katara drained the liquids out of the lichens and evergreens with her waterbending, and when the pile was large enough, Zuko sent a strong blast that lit the whole thing like a street festival.

"Care to say a few words?" he asked her, and she looked unsure for a moment.

"Whoever you are," she said quietly, "I hope your death was not in vain." They left the pyre burning, hefted up the packs they had stowed under some scrub, and picked their way up the side of the mountain.

They had been traveling for what seemed to Zuko an inordinate amount of time in absolute silence. Katara seemed lost in her thoughts, and Zuko had never been a great conversationalist. Political etiquette lessons only went so far; somehow, it didn't feel right to bring up trade agreements, cultural differences, or the majesty of the Fire Nation with Katara. Unfortunately, his tutors had only covered these three subjects.

"_They're the only ones you'll ever need, Prince Zuko," they had said in their wheedling voices. "Once you're Fire Lord, you won't have to make any other kind of small talk."_

In their own way, his misguided tutors had been right; the old Council still abided by the strict culture of absolute deference and half-news his father had instituted. But the new people Zuko had appointed, younger ministers selected from the best universities in the nation, and ambassadors from other nations had taught Zuko to be frank. Rebuilding a war-scarred nation had proven that transparency and honesty were necessary above all niceties.

He looked at the girl next to him, still rather at a loss for words.

"Why did you decide to come to me for help?" asked Katara, sparing him the awkwardness of breaking the silence. _Oh good, _thought Zuko. _An easy question_. He collected his thoughts for a moment, letting the sound of their feet on the hard snow center him.

"The moment I found out that my mother was in a cold place," he said, "I sent out all of my researchers to the scrolls. Of course, we gathered that it should have been somewhere in one of the poles; very few places in the Earth Kingdom are cold, although I sent ambassadors with search parties that were able to get permission and conduct a search. But something kept telling me that it was in one of the poles." He stopped talking for a moment, his throat raw from the cold.

"We looked at all of the maps of your sister tribe, but there was nothing to indicate that people had not reached every possible surface there. Also, there are no small villages; the North Pole is centralized. When I confirmed my suspicions that the Earth Kingdom and the North Pole were not viable locations, I wrote to you." Katara nodded , and Zuko bowed his head.

"I should have kept up with my letters," he admitted sheepishly. "When it came time to ask for your help, I didn't know how you would react." Katara snorted in a very unladylike fashion and adjusted the sack on her back without breaking stride.

"To be honest," she said matter-of-factly, "Your letter came at just the right moment." The Fire Lord looked at her questioningly.

"Zuko, you've seen my Tribe. We have hundreds of people. All of our huts are sturdy, and the animals have come back since the last time the black snow was here." Zuko winced, remembering that he had been responsible for the last black snow.

"I have organized a canal-building project, and we have enough older waterbenders now that they can train the ones born into the tribe. Everything has leveled off; we have food, shelter, healers and even a school. I have nothing to do except solve petty disputes. I can't even take an ambassador position, because I'm the only leader the tribe has, but the truth is that I'm bored stupid in my great big hut in the middle of the South Pole!" Her voice had risen several octaves, and a reddish tinge began to creep across her cheeks.

"I'm _glad_ you asked for my help," she said. "I was going certifiably _crazy_!" She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Sometimes I get so fed up with just staying behind." Zuko shook his head, meeting her eyes.

"No, I understand," he said with emphasis. "It's not a hut in the South Pole, but sometimes I don't come out of my study for weeks, months! The pile of papers never gets any smaller. People are always asking for money, raise the taxes, lower the taxes, more schools, relocations, palace positions, increased trade, reduced trade, more festivals, everything! Sometimes it gets to the point where I wonder why I even became Fire Lord! My Uncle helps a lot, but even then there's always something for the advisors to nag me about. It's, 'When are you going to take a consort, Fire Lord Zuko?' or 'When are you going to take a wife?' 'There are plenty of acceptable candidates, my lord,' 'We need an heir, my lord.'" Zuko was almost growling.

"What am I, a walking time bomb? I'm not even thirty, for Agni's sake! If anything should happen, my uncle is next in line!" Katara stifled a laugh, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. Zuko looked over and felt a wave of irritation; he had sympathized with her and expected sympathy, but instead, the cheeky waterbender was laughing at him!

"What's funny?" He asked, voice betraying his annoyance.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, releasing a giggle. "It's just that you'd think they'd worry more about the daily problems of running your nation. It looks like all they want is for you to start cranking out mini-Sparkys!" She seemed to find her own comment funny, and let out another giggle. His eyes softened; he suddenly didn't know why he had been upset to begin with.

The sky was growing clearer.

"We're going to have to turn in for a few hours," said Katara. They were halfway up the mountain, and although the pines had grown denser, the face of the mountain offered no cave openings. It took them another hour to find a sheet of smooth ice jutting out from the side of the mountain. The sun was already peeking out over the horizon, and Katara and Zuko quickly built out a tent on the leeward side of the ice.

"I can keep watch until it's time to move again," offered Katara, but Zuko declined.

"The sun is out," he explained. "I'll have trouble sleeping. I'll take the watch." Katara put a hand on his arm.

"Be careful," she said, and disappeared inside the tent to catch a few winks.

The next two and a half days passed in a similar fashion. Sporadic conversation, hard climbing, and increasingly uncomfortable camps characterized an otherwise uneventful journey up the side of what Zuko had come to call, "the forever hill."

They were dragging their feet in the middle of the night when Katara suddenly stopped.

"Something doesn't feel right," she said. They had seen an abandoned hut earlier that morning, and Katara had thought that it meant they were close to Tanarak. Since then, she had been feeling increasingly anxious, seeing traps where there were none and moving figures stealing from shadow to shadow behind them. She took one step forward and immediately regretted it. A wire closed shut on her ankle and dragged her upside down; when Zuko went to help her, a similar wire flung him level with her, hanging like a bat from an evergreen tree.

A shadow moved.

"Whatever you do," murmured Katara into Zuko's ear, "_don't bend_." He nodded and hung there with her, feeling the blood rush to his head as a group of five figures surrounded them.

"Well, well, well," said a sharp female voice. "Look what our traps dragged up." Someone lit a small lantern, and Zuko and Katara could see that the pinch-faced woman wore a heavy yellow parka trimmed with polar leopard fur. Her cronies were similarly attired, two women and two men, of varying ages and features.

"What are you doing here?" asked the woman harshly. "Why are you sneaking into my city in the dark of night, dressed black? You two are no doubt looking for trouble." Katara gave a minute shake of her head meant only for Zuko, and he kept his silence. He knew even less than Katara what this Tanarak was all about, and he wasn't about to let go of his only good lead.

When she saw she wasn't going to get a response from the pair, she grunted distastefully and gestured toward the men in the group.

"Tie them up. Take them to the village. Ama, Qin and I will finish checking the traps." The men expertly cut them down and tied them up; the women disappeared, and the men reset the traps before prodding Zuko and Katara.

"Move it," grunted one. "It's cold out here, and I have another job to get to before sunrise." The other snorted and steered Katara by the shoulders.

"My wife will skin me alive if I'm not home to get the kids up," he commented, and as the sky lightened, Zuko and Katara were bullied into entering through a grand gate. They were handed over to gate guards and further bullied toward a two-story building in the middle of the village. The building's height was not impressive; but as the sky cleared, Zuko and Katara saw that it was not a building but an evergreen tree. Its trunk was wider than Katara's hut; second-story windows were intricately carved screens of vines, flowers, and suns and moons. The first floor door was equally impressive; instead of the carvings being open, as with the windows, they were inlaid with a beautiful red stone.

"You'll wait here, and you'll be respectful," commanded the guard. "There are crossbows ready to tear you open if you so much as breathe too loudly." Zuko and Katara nodded and unconsciously moved closer to each other. Katara snaked her hand into Zuko's, squeezing tightly. It was only moments before the door opened, revealing a tiled room with a long fur carpet leading to a throne-like seat. In it, a woman sat regally, her long white hair in a braid that coiled in a complicated pattern on her head. Her robes were fur-lined and yellow, like those of the guards and the hunters, but obviously of a much finer quality.

"Kneel," she said regally, and they did, not letting go of each other's hands.

"I am Nawang," said the woman. Her blue eyes were ice-cold, and her wrinkled, arthritic hands gripped the arms of her chair so that her knuckles were white.

"And you are intruders."

…

Author's Note: Finally getting to the good stuff! I have so many ideas in my head for this fanfic, so being constrained time-wise is so frustrating! But the story is really taking off, so please review if you haven't, and if you have, thank you for being a faithful reader (and another review would be really nice!) (:


	5. Oma and Shu

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 5: Oma and Shu

The Fire Nation air steamed around the deck. It had been unbearably hot for days; Southern Water Tribe clothes had been discarded a mere week after leaving the newly-named Sinaaq harbor. But now, as the ship docked in the Fire Nation capital city, even the light Fire Nation clothes that had been provided became damp with humidity. The crew unfolded the gangplank, and it was mere moments before she was gently tapped on the arm and offered an escort.

"Thank you for coming, Lady Kamala," offered the jolly voice of an older man. Kamala beamed and put her palm on the man's arm.

"You must be General Iroh," she said gently, smiling. Her eyes didn't quite focus on him, but he had expected that; unlike his nephew, Iroh had kept up a brisk correspondence with the Avatar's traveling group.

"I am General Iroh," he affirmed. "But you can call me simply Iroh, or Uncle Iroh; the war is over now, and there is no need for such formality." Kamala simply nodded, taking in the sounds around her; it appeared that they were moving away from the docks, a suspicion that was confirmed when Iroh escorted her into a rickshaw. The old general directed the driver to the palace, and as they took off, Kamala felt some relief from the sun. Iroh had pulled the cover up on the rickshaw.

"I have to admit, Iroh, I wasn't expecting your letter," said the woman when she was comfortable. "I know you write to Katara and Sokka often, but I believe the last message I was involved with was the announcement of Hakoda's funeral." She was soft-spoken, but direct; the widow wondered why she had journeyed to the Fire Nation, leaving the comfort of everything she knew on the word of a distant relation.

"Like my nephew, I have perfected the skill of writing ambiguous letters," said Iroh. "However, in this case, I am merely a recruiter for a greater mind. Have you heard of Miss Bei Fong?" Kamala nodded.

"The little blind earthbender," she said. "Of course. Katara spoke of her often. Is she not the ambassador from the Earth Kingdom?"

"She is," affirmed Iroh. "And that's why I wrote to you. Miss Bei Fong has, with Avatar Aang's help, gathered together an outstanding group of people. She has spent hours looking through recommendations, traveling to distant parts of every nation, and culling those that she deems unnecessary. In fact, if she had not been occupied with a string of rebellions in the Earth Kingdom, she would have come to get you personally." Kamala's brow furrowed.

"But why gather these people? What is so exceptional about us?" The rickshaw had stopped; Iroh stepped out and offered his arm to the beautiful Water Tribe widow, leading her into the palace through his nephew's gardens.

"You are all blind," explained Iroh. "And you are all the best in your respective fields. You are the most outstanding healer; she is an earthbending champion. She has gathered skilled benders of each element, fine craftsman, farmers, merchants, priests and priestesses. With the Avatar's permission and the healthy allowance she receives from her parents – as well as a stipend agreed upon by each nation – she wishes to start a school for the blind. It would be based in the Southern Air Temple." Iroh took a breath, motioning for a guard to open the door.

"Miss Bei Fong is of the opinion that blind people should not be defenseless. 'Being blind isn't an excuse for being helpless,' I believe were the words she used. 'Somebody has to help these people. Not everyone has badger-moles.' She was very indignant when she began her research and saw the numbers in every nation of blind citizens that were poor, impoverished, or simply not contributing to society. "

Kamala had flushed a little and smiled; the action transformed her face, making her look years younger. It had been years since she felt needed; since Hakoda had died and Sokka and Katara had made their own lives, she had been in her own little hut looking after herself and offering tea and advice to whomever wandered in. There was little to be done in the frozen South Pole, but she had been afraid of change; now, this opportunity to be surrounded by others like her, and to contribute to society, sent a shiver of excitement through her shoulders.

"I… I would be much honored," she murmured, blank eyes widening. "I had no idea I was regarded that highly." Iroh chuckled.

"Lady Katara thinks the world of you, Lady Kamala. She speaks of you often in her letters, and regards you as one of her dearest friends and confidants. She says your healing abilities are without par in either of the poles, bending healers included." The widow smiled softly. Her clouded eyes turned up at the corners, and she looked to the sky.

"Katara is a good daughter, and a good leader to our people," she said at last. "But sometimes I feel that she yearns to be her own woman." They had finally stopped walking, and Iroh gently directed Kamala to her room. Although the woman could not see, the soft smell of an unfamiliar flower enveloped her. She slowly made her way into the room, feeling from object to object; the dresser was made of lacquered wood, and there was a heavy metal brush set on it; the carpet on the floor was inches deep and hugged her bare feet. The bed was attired in soft silk.

"I hope you will enjoy it here," said Iroh kindly. "I will bring you all of the information regarding Miss Bei Fong's proposal, as well as a secretary for your personal use. She will read you the information and take down notes; you may dictate letters to her; she is your assistant as long as you are a guest at the Palace." Kamala felt her way back to the door and squeezed Iroh's hand.

"Thank you so much, Iroh," said the woman. Her tan skin contrasted sharply with his pale one, and Iroh was reminded of the Lady Katara for a moment.

"I am not the one to thank," he said happily. "This entire thing was Miss Bei Fong's brilliant idea; I simply agree with it. You may share your thoughts with her personally, however; she is being escorted to the Palace as soon as she and Avatar Aang mediate the Earth Kingdom rebellions. Her protégés will be arriving over the next few days, so you will also get to meet them. No, Lady Kamala; it is I who should be thanking you for considering her worthy endeavor."

Iroh bowed and left, making sure to send for the secretary to arrive at the widow's room as soon as possible.

Back in her room, Kamala pinned up her hair with excited, anxious fingers. For the first time in many, many years she was going to be part of something – she was going to help someone like her, be part of an alliance of people like her.

_Hakoda, your daughter and her friends are truly magnificent,_ she thought. _You were right to be so proud. _

At that moment, the secretary came in, flustered, with a stack of papers almost taller than her and a sack full of inks and metal pens.

"Hello," she said, eyeglasses falling from her nose to hang around her neck. "My name is Jian Ji. Where would you like to start?" Kamala turned to face her, gesturing for the woman to settle in the general direction of the intricately sectioned desk near the bed.

"I would like to send some letters," she said, and the woman nodded rapidly. She took out a thick parchment scroll and opened a bottle of ink (red, although the woman could not see it) in which she dipped her pen.

"_My dear Katara, when you return, and dearest Sokka,_" began the woman, feeling another rush of excitement.

"_I have been offered the most wonderful proposition by General Iroh and your old friend, Miss Bei Fong. It is an alliance…_"

It was hours later when the secretary finally rolled up the scroll and sealed it with her clerk's ring.

…

She was cutting off his circulation, he realized, but he was almost certain she couldn't tell. They were kneeling before this two-headed-rat-viper of a woman, afraid to say anything, afraid to identify themselves. Zuko was surprised he had not yet been clapped in chains; his telltale scar was an obvious marking if there ever was one, and once somebody in this spirits-forsaken village noticed it…

_Benders be warned._

He winced. Katara was having similar thoughts. She felt as though someone had cracked a cold ostrich-horse egg on her head; a cold dread engulfed her slowly, starting at the roots of her hair and making its way slowly in the direction of her toes.

"Have you any explanation as to why you were caught in my hunters' traps?" asked the woman, her voice icy. Katara and Zuko did not speak, but her gaze trapped them in its hold.

"_Tell me your names_," said the woman at last. "Or I will have you gutted. I have no patience for this foolishness." Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at Katara. Shooting a desperate look at Zuko, she squeezed his hand. She had an idea; they hadn't been recognized yet, so perhaps they might yet get through undetected.

"Oma," said Katara softly, and Zuko could swear he saw the old hag's ears perk up. "My name is Oma." A light dawned on Zuko's face as he realized what she was trying to do.

"And I'm Shu," he added, hoping he didn't sound too eager.

"And why have you come here?" baited the woman, still suspicious, still waiting for them to crack.

"Because," breathed Katara, a look of overdone faraway longing dawning on her face. "We couldn't be together anywhere else. We were running away." Zuko almost snorted. He could have died laughing at the expression on Katara's face, if both of their skins didn't depend on the believability of this story.

"I am nothing but a tea server," said Zuko in character, imbuing his voice with fear and theatrical sadness. "And Oma is the wife of a very wealthy merchant." Nawang nodded almost imperceptibly; her veneer was cracking slightly, and Zuko realized that he and Katara had regained their chance.

"Here, you are equals, it is true," said the old woman finally. "But as with all newcomers, you must start at the bottom and work your way up in the village society." She narrowed her eyes at them and pointed an arthritic index finger between them.

"I still do not trust you," she said slowly, lethally. "You will be under watch until I am satisfied that you are as you say." She banged her bony fist on the arm of her throne, and two guards appeared behind her.

"They will be working for Hong and Ming Ya," she said to the guards, and turned to face the Fire Lord and the Water Tribe Chief. "Get them some proper clothing and keep an eye on them. If they so much as spark, move a rock, or melt something, they are to be thrown in the Chamber." The guards nodded impassively. Nawang made an abrupt motion with her hand, and Zuko and Katara got up, bowed deeply to her, and scurried after the guards that were already leaving the room.

Outside of the tree, the pair let go of a breath neither had realized they had been holding.

"Oma?" whispered Zuko, quirking an eyebrow at Katara. The girl rolled her eyes at him.

"Quiet, tea boy," she retorted. "We've got our chance." They reached a two-story wooden hut with a thatched roof, and a guard knocked forcefully on the door. It was several moments before an elderly man opened the door, an equally elderly woman scolding behind him for him to put on a parka.

"Good news," said the soldier sarcastically. "They're yours. Nawang says they're to be watched carefully, so one of us will be by every day for a full report, but you're to do with them what you like." The guard turned to Zuko and Katara, eyeing them beadily.

"Welcome to Tanarak," he said nastily, and walked back to the center of the village with his partner. The old woman peeked out the door under the arm her husband was using to hold the door open.

"Don't keep them out there, Hong," she said finally. "They must be frozen! Invite them in." She disappeared into the main room and the man sighed, holding the door for them.

"I'm Hong," he said tiredly. "That's my wife, Ming Ya." Zuko and Katara bowed and went inside where Ming Ya was busy preparing some tea. The hut was bigger than it had appeared from the outside. The first floor was as big as Zuko's bedroom and study in the palace combined, and had a low wooden table with cushions, a corner hearth, iron tracks on the ceiling from which hung many kitchen implements, and a wooden counter built into the far wall. There was a set of rather steep stairs leading to the second floor, which was built in a loft style and seemed only to contain a futon and a beautiful, although out-of-place, shelf of scrolls. Under the stairs, another futon was unrolled, though it seemed as if it had not been used for years.

"What are your names?" asked Ming Ya pleasantly, and this time it was Zuko's turn.

"I'm Shu," he said. "And this is my, er…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say until Katara rescued him. She put a hand on his arm and gazed into his eyes.

"I'm his companion, Oma," she said dreamily, and for a moment Zuko felt as though he were falling into her wide blue eyes. _Whoa there, Sifu Hotman, _he thought to himself. _She's only acting._ Ming Ya smiled broadly and clapped like a child.

"Oh, you're lovers!" she said excitedly. "So are Hong and I!" Her husband glanced at her less than excitedly.

"Don't give me that look!" She poked a wrinkled finger into her husband's chest. "You might have outgrown the excitement and romance of our younger days, but they are children yet!" She finished setting places around the table and invited them to sit.

"Please, have some tea," she offered, and Katara took her cup gratefully. It was a different flavor, and the liquid burned down her throat; the four drank in silence until Hong cleared his throat.

"We start work when the sun rises here," he began abruptly. "That means that by sunrise, both of you will be expected to be up, fed, clean, and dressed." He spoke to them as though they were children.

"You – Shu – will come work with me in the mines until noon. After a short break for food, we will move on to the stone carving shop until sundown." Zuko nodded, saying nothing; Hong was making it quite clear that he didn't have a choice in the situation. Ming Ya clapped again and looked at Katara.

"Oma, my dear, we're going to have so much fun!" She put a warm hand on Katara's shoulder. "Our jobs are simple: we clean and scale all of the fish and skin all of the animals the hunters bring in from sunup to noon; then, when the sun is high, we move to the sorting shack to distribute prepared food into each family's weekly basket." At hearing that she was going to be working with food, Katara perked up; perhaps she'd be able to help Zuko find his mother after all! She smiled widely, and Ming Ya seemed to take it as an agreement with her statement.

"Stay right here," said the old woman. "I'll get you some clothes." She disappeared up into the loft with surprising speed for someone her age, returning moments later with two parkas under her arm, a folded dress for Katara and long pants and a shirt for Zuko.

"Ming Ya and I are going to be outside in several minutes," growled Hong. "We're already going to be late for first shift. Get dressed, and don't keep us waiting." The man offered his arm to his wife, and the two drifted outside, pulling on parkas. Zuko and Katara turned to face each other, both exhaling loudly. They looked over at the one futon under the stairs and had an inkling that it would be their bed – _theirs_ – and flushed red.

"Come on," said Katara nervously. "You heard Hong. We can't keep them waiting." She turned her back to Zuko and picked up her clothes, moving to the futon area to change.

"Don't look," she called over her shoulder, but the Fire Lord was already sliding on the thick yellow pants. He pulled on the shirt next, and when his head popped out of the neck of the garment, he was met with the sight of Katara wriggling into her yellow dress. Her waist was thicker and her hips were wider than they had been when she was a teenager; from his vantage point, he couldn't see her scar, but for some reason, the sight of her backside and the curve of her spine underneath her bindings rendered him breathless.

The Avatar's waterbender had grown incredibly sexy.

Zuko shook his head and looked away before the situation could become awkward; although he didn't think anyone would be able to tell once he had the parka on, he didn't want to take any chances. He began to wonder how he would handle sleeping next to her, but caught himself – they were here to find his mother. Time enough to ponder his intense new attraction to the lady waterbender after they got out of this spirits-forsaken village.

"Ready?" Katara asked softly. Zuko nodded and, like Hong, offered his arm to Katara.

"Let's go, my beautiful Oma," he murmured half-jokingly. His tone caught Katara by surprise, and she blushed brightly. When was the last time someone had called her beautiful?

_Chill out, Katara, he's only acting. _

Taking his cue, she looked at him from underneath fluttering eyelashes.

"Thank you, my strong, handsome Shu." Zuko's stomach did funny things, and he was swiftly reminded of how long it had been since he had a woman next to him, gazing at him with that look…

They made it outside, and Katara stood by Ming Ya's diminutive form while Zuko walked toward Hong. Ming Ya smiled and kissed her husband goodbye, reminding him that his noon meal was waiting in a metal pan under the coals in the hearth; without thinking, Zuko leaned over, put his hand behind Katara's neck and drew her into a light kiss. Coming back to their respective sides, Zuko scratched his head and Katara's hand flew to her mouth.

_What was that?_ they asked themselves, and as they split to make their way to opposite sides of Tanarak, both Zuko and Katara were wondering how they were going to sleep together in the little futon under the stairs that night.

_Sundown._

Zuko dragged his feet behind Hong, and it seemed as though it took hours to reach their hut. When the older man opened the front door, Zuko saw that the women had already arrived and gone to bed. Following Hong's cues, Zuko washed his face and hands and changed into a looser version of the clothes he had worn to work. He dragged himself over to the futon where Katara lay sleeping, her long hair wild over the pillow. _I worried for nothing this morning_, he thought, because although there was a beautiful woman lying on the bed next to him, he was so bone-tired that the only thing on his mind was blissful sleep.

"Zuko?" murmured Katara softly, opening one bleary eye. He nodded and slid into the futon as far from her as he could.

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly. "Go back to sleep." A look of consternation crossed Katara's face as she closed her eyes again.

"But I'm cold…" she trailed off sleepily. Despite himself, Zuko moved a little bit closer; when his left arm barely touched her right arm, he slowly, despite his tiredness, sent his body temperature up little by little. As the warmth enveloped her, Katara's frown was replaced with a look of pure calm; only when she began to breathe heavily did Zuko let himself fall asleep.

_I'll tell her about the mines tomorrow… _

…

Author's Note: Cheesy as it is, I couldn't resist putting Zuko and Katara in a futon together. But the Fire Lord is a perfect gentleman; much to my disappointment, I'll admit… let's see if we can change that. For now, please review, your comments are bright spots in my long, monotonous college days!


	6. An Honest Woman

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 6: An Honest Woman

He had been long awake when she stirred, but was trying to make himself sleep; if the coming day was anything like the previous one had been, he would appreciate every last wink he could get. As it was, however, he couldn't help watching her from underneath hooded eyes as she awoke, opening her eyes slowly, a small smile creeping over her face. He imagined she hadn't yet noticed that she was snuggled up to his warm, solid figure, and that she had flung her left arm wide over his chest.

When she did notice, and it took her several moments, she blushed strongly and slowly withdrew her arm from his chest. He rather mourned the loss of its comforting weight, but was very interested in watching Katara's reaction to their waking position. They had been sleeping chastely, it was nothing more than that; and yet, when he had warmed her up the night before using his bending, and she had awoken to his seemingly sleep-peaceful face…

Couldn't it have been something more?

He watched her face closely as she sat next to him, seeing an emotional battle play out on her face. He wasn't privy to the fighting words, but something about her alternately delighted and troubled expressions comforted him. On her end, however, Katara was stuck in a sleepy turmoil of unfinished thoughts and emotional rages, all concerning the man sleeping by her side.

Sleeping. By her side.

_No denying he's handsome_, said a voice in Katara's head. She imagined a dark little spirit laughing at her from some spot on her shoulder.

_He's the Fire Lord, and you're only friends_, said another voice. _Besides, remember what happened with Aang? Why destroy a perfectly good friendship? _reasoned the other spirit, this one intelligent and grounded. Katara winced, and was suddenly surprised by a warm hand on her arm.

"Good morning," murmured Zuko, breaking into her thoughts. "Lay down." He opened his good eye and offered her a wry smile to indicate that the suggestion was innocent.

"Good morning," replied the waterbender a bit breathlessly, coming back down to lay beside the Fire Lord. When her head met the futon, it shook some of her bound hair loose; unconsciously, Zuko moved a stray hair from her face.

"You're up early," he said huskily. "That's a surprise, you being a waterbender and all." Katara nodded; his morning voice was doing funny things to her throat, rendering her unable to speak. Suddenly, his gold eyes widened.

"Oh!" he exclaimed softly. "The mines! I was going to tell you last night, but you were already asleep." His gaze bored into hers. "Yesterday, Hong took me to work in the mines, like he said. Remember those doors to Nawang's tree-house-thing? The mines are for that stone. Although it's not necessarily rare, it's very precious here; it's used for valuable jewelry and family heirlooms and decorations. At first, when I reached the mines, I was given a uniform and a pickax, and shown where to begin mining. It was pretty boring, backbreaking work.

"But then, Hong sent me for the overseer to inspect a new vein of the stone his group had discovered. The overseer is always in the main intersection of the tunnels; on the way there, out of curiosity, I began looking down the other tunnels. Some were still being used, but some of the abandoned ones were barred from the main tunnel. One of them seemed completely caved in; but when I sent a little flame down to the fallen rocks, I noticed something."

Zuko had been whispering rapidly the whole time, his voice outgrowing its sleepy quality as his excitement mounted. Katara was torn between wanting to hear the rest of the story and soundly scolding him for bending in what appeared to be the most anti-bender village in history.

"What did you notice?" she asked finally, giving in.

"The walls," said Zuko, good eye going wide. "When the fire passes by them, there's a very faint Fire Nation insignia painted on them. It's every few feet until the cave-in. And I have a feeling that that tunnel leads to the mountain behind Tanarak." Katara opened her mouth excitedly, but never got to speak; Ming Ya's unfailingly cheerful tones invaded the conversation.

"I hear the lovers whispering!" she crowed from the loft. "How romantic!" The old woman climbed down the stairs already dressed and peered behind them at the pair.

"Oma, dear, help me prepare breakfast?" she asked kindly. "I'll step out while you two lovebirds change." The waterbender and the firebender blushed furiously, and Ming Ya took a parka and happily left through the front door. Katara sat up, and the sheet she had been sharing with Zuko fell to her waist. Her shift was too big, and the enormous neck hole hung alluringly off one mocha shoulder. She turned her blue eyes to him apologetically.

"Could you-?" She began.

"Turning," muttered Zuko in reply, and he flipped himself onto his stomach. Katara dressed herself in the gown she had folded under her pillow, and then kept herself turned as Zuko changed into his day clothes. The front door opened, and Ming Ya breezed in with a basket.

"They've given us fish this morning," she commented brightly. "Today will be a good day! Oma, dear, start the fire." Katara nodded and made her way to the hearth, dragging a heavy log to the grate and reaching for the flint. Zuko, watching her from under the stairs, cringed; he hadn't started a fire with flint since he had lost his bending when first joining the Avatar's group. He'd have had the fire burning already and spared Katara the trouble. She finally got a spark out of the flint, and Zuko's shoulders relaxed. His blood hummed; the sun would be up in less than an hour. He rolled up the futon and stowed it in its corner.

"Shu, I'll need you to bring in some water," said Ming Ya, chopping away at something dark green and extremely leafy. Katara shot him an apologetic look; he imagined her feeling something similar to what he had felt as he watched her struggle with the flint.

"Of course, Ming Ya," he said respectfully, and put on his parka. As he walked out the door and took the bucket hanging on the nail, it occurred to Zuko that life without bending was horribly dull. His muscles ached from not going through his basic bending forms, and until they had reached Tanarak, he and Katara had been holding daily sparring matches and meditating together.

But then, if it was between bending and living…

He broke the thin sheet of ice covering the well and lowered the bucket. He had meant to ask Katara how her day had gone, and if she had discovered anything of use. He also wanted to plan with her; he needed some way to get her down to the mines with him so that they could explore the caved in tunnel. Women had come down periodically as he worked; mostly miners' wives and daughters bearing baskets of food. They had not been allowed off the main tunnels, however, so if he did somehow manage to get Katara down there, he'd also have to find a way to get her into the mine's smaller veins. The faint Fire Nation insignia was burned into his mind's eye; he was determined to explore the tunnel further.

He returned to Hong and Ming Ya's home to eat a pleasant breakfast during which Ming Ya dominated the conversation; shortly thereafter, in the watery rays of the rising sun, the men and women split and headed for their jobs.

"Your man certainly is handsome," commented Ming Ya as soon as the men were out of earshot. She and Katara were on their way to the receiving hut.

"I suppose he is," murmured Katara distractedly; her mind was on the decidedly more intense kiss the Fire Lord had given her this morning when they parted. Ming Ya smiled, her eyes lighting up; she remembered that look, those sighs. The girl was smitten.

"Whatever happened to his face?" she asked curiously, and for a moment Katara was stumped; but she quickly fabricated a little veil for the true story and told Ming Ya the tale.

"A horrible bender burned him," she said truthfully. "He spoke out against the man, and was rewarded with that horrible scar for his trouble." She trailed off, recalling the feel of the hard, rippled skin beneath her fingers. It had been at once solid and soft, then a mark of eternal shame and now… now the mark of a distinguished leader, the head of a nation entering a new era.

She had not felt the scar in ten years, but the sensation was not easily forgotten.

"Ugh, benders," spat Ming Ya, uncharacteristically cold. The venom in her voice made Katara shudder, a gesture Ming Ya took to mean agreement.

"Why are you and Hong here, Ming Ya? Did you have a bad experience with a bender?" Ming Ya shot her a beady look and Katara held her breath; mentioning bending in this village was dangerously close to treason. Apparently Katara passed inspection, however, because Ming Ya's face relaxed.

"Haven't we all?" she asked rhetorically. "Hong and I lived in a valley not far from an air temple. We were peaceful, farming people; he and I had just married when we moved to the valley, and I was very pregnant when the raid happened." Her voice grew hateful.

"Firebenders, hundreds of them, invaded the air temple in great waves. They meant to exterminate the Air Nomads, I believe, and although the nomads are peaceful, theY defended their home strongly. Hong and I were caught in the crosshairs of the attack. Our house and farm burned down; our winter's entire store of food was gone in less time than it takes to blink. Our home was razed to the ground by fire; but the wind from the mountain of the nomadS defending their temple spread it far.

Her eyes were angry and pained, and her wrinkled hands were clenched into tight fists.

"Hong and I were able to find our cellar in that mess, and took refuge there. I don't remember much after that, except that eventually I became conscious because the baby was coming. It was a little boy, and he took hours to be born. The moment Hong stepped outside to scavenge for food, he was attacked by renegade firebenders; they burned his palms and the soles of his feet for fun. I yelled at them to stop, and they turned on me; but instead of hurting me physically, they made me empty emotionally."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"They took my son with them. I don't know of his fate… I never even got to give him a name." Katara's heart ached for the woman; she knew what it was to lose a son so soon, so painfully. Like her, Katara had never gotten to name her son; she had never seen him past one week of age. Tenzin was a light, typical Air Nomad name; Katara would have given him a strong Southern Water Tribe name, like Atka – wise one – or Tikka, the wolf. But something with the woman's story wasn't right; if she had been caught in a crossfire between the Fire Nation and the Air Nomads, she was over a century old; and yet, she seemed to be in her late sixties, if that. Katara also recalled that Nawang had seemed old, but not as old as the stories of her Tribe made her out to be.

_Southern Water Tribe, Fifteen Years Prior_

"_Gran-gran, will you tell me the story of Tanarak again?" asked a much younger Katara. Her hair loopies bobbled up and down as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "I want to know why someone could hate benders so much." The old woman smiled benevolently down on her granddaughter; the girl would look so much like Kya one day._

"_Well," she began, sitting on a pile of furs. "There was once an Avatar from the South Pole. His name was Kuruk, and he was a very strong and handsome Avatar. He had many devoted lady followers, but when he fell in love, he fell for the one girl that hadn't looked his way twice." Little Katara shook her head, as though wondering what the man had been thinking._

"_Well, Avatar Kuruk courted this girl many moons, and finally, after two winters, she agreed to become his sweetheart. You see, Avatar Kuruk was young, but this girl – her name was Nawang – was even younger, and she was the most beautiful girl in the tribe. As soon as he had caught her, however, Kuruk became careless. He was always a very easy going Avatar; the world was very much at peace, and he had no worries._

"_It became so that Kuruk paid very little attention to the girl he had spent so much time chasing. He did not notice when she became a woman, and when her beauty shone brighter than the brightest star, Avatar Kuruk closed his eyes. She became sad, and then bitter; one day she ran away, and Avatar Kuruk did not notice until many moons later._

"_He went to find her, but it was too late. She had been taken by Ko, the Face Stealer, while Kuruk was foolishly squandering his role as Avatar. He cursed himself for that, and returned to the Water Tribe a different man. He did not ever marry, and he died alone and broken._

"_But Nawang was a different story. Her heart was poisoned by Kuruk's negligence. She used her outstanding beauty as a bribe to make a deal with Ko, vowing eternal pain and revenge on any bender whose misfortune it would be to cross her path. She sold her soul for revenge, and fled the Water Tribe with a number of members who had also feared or been hurt by benders._

"_Together with them, she moved to Tanarak, and started a colony of her kind. I don't know if Tanarak exists still, but Nawang does… and she'll eat you if you don't do your chores." Kanna added the last line with love and mirth, tickling little Katara intensely. Blue eyes wide in wonder, Katara went about the rest of her day in awe that one careless man could have created such a sad, bitter monster of a woman._

_Tanarak, Present._

Katara and Ming Ya had arrived at the receiving hut, where they were greeted with cheery hellos from the other women. They discarded their parkas and tied on aprons, lining up along a table to receive their daily ration of work.

On the other side of town, Zuko was already picking away at the walls of a tunnel. He and Hong had spent a silent walk to the mines, after which they had put on their uniforms and begun to work. He had learned from listening to the other men talk that there was a possibly new vein of red agate – that was the name of the stone, he was told – that led into the mountain behind Tanarak. Some believed the mountain was cursed and refused to work near it; but the overseer was taking volunteers, and when Zuko asked, Hong gave him a noncommittal shrug and directed him to the signup sheet. Zuko's heart raced with excitement; the new vein was to be opened less than ten feet from the caved in tunnel. Coming back from the overseer's office, Zuko bumped into a woman carrying a basket down the main tunnel. Before he could apologize, she had dragged him off to the side and into the entrance of a barred tunnel.

"Katara?" he asked, surprised, and she clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Around here, I'm Oma," she hissed. "I asked to bring food for you and Hong. I have news." Zuko gently pried her hand off.

"I'm listening," he said, and Katara showed him the basket. She pointed out a wooden tag that read _Hong, Mines, Meal 2._

"Every basket of food has a tag like this," she explained. "In the morning, we don't work with the baskets. But after our break, we move to another hut and we prepare three baskets for every person in the village every day. You don't have a tag yet, so your portion is in Hong's; but there's always two portions that go to Nawang's hut." Zuko didn't think this was unusual; she seemed to be in charge, after all, so an extra basket of food going her way was hardly strange.

"One of the baskets has her name on it," said Katara, showing him her wrist. She had written sloppily _Nawang, Hub, Meal 1_. "But the other has a blank tag with the Tanarak symbol we saw branded on that clerk's chest." Her eyes bugged out with the significance of it.

"I don't think that basket stays with Nawang." They heard footsteps behind them and shot guilty glances at each other; Zuko was supposed to be working, and Katara was long overdue at the hut. The footsteps grew louder and were accompanied by a jingling of keys; the overseer was headed their way.

"What do we do?" asked Zuko desperately, and Katara panicked.

"I don't know!" she said, but as the footsteps drew closer, her heart thudded out of her chest. "What do normal couples do when they're trying to look innocent?" Zuko smiled nervously.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, the keys coming ominously close.

"Yes, just _do something_," stressed Katara. He took a deep breath and wondered why his blood was suddenly rushing through his ears; leaning down, he pulled Katara close enough to brush her nose with his.

"My beautiful Oma," he whispered, gold eyes capturing blue, before his lips crashed down on hers. At first, Katara was simultaneously aghast and amazed; but when he tried to deepen the kiss, she let him, kissing back with a frightening intensity. Her hands found their way to his hair, and his lips slipped down to her collarbone; they were deeply lost in the new sensations when a gruff clearing of the throat broke through their more-than-friendly tableau.

"Uh," said Zuko, and mentally smacked himself. _Very eloquent, Zuko. And on your second day of work, too._

Meanwhile, Katara wasn't having much better luck; her brain was stuck somewhere in the past few minutes, trying to work out what had just happened. She remembered once, long ago, inviting Zuko into the group – _You too, Zuko! Being part of the group means being part of group hugs. _– but just now… that had been _slightly_ more than a friendly hug.

Still, she couldn't help smiling a little when she touched a finger to her bruised lips.

_So this is what it feels like to be a woman. _She blushed at the thought, and the overseer cleared his throat again.

"I'm – I'm sorry," stammered Zuko.

"I was just… bringing him lunch," said Katara at the same time, and the overseer's mouth twitched with the enormous effort of trying not to smile.

"I like you, Shu, so I'll let this one slide… on one condition," said the overseer, and Zuko bowed deeply.

"Anything, sir, name it," he replied, still a little shaken. Hadn't the point been to get caught? Why, then, was he stammering and blushing like a lily schoolboy?

"Make an honest woman of your beautiful lady," said the man, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on. Back to work." Katara wordlessly handed him the basket and watched him walk back down to the smaller tunnels with the overseer. For a moment, she stood rooted to her spot; realizing that she was late, however, she sprinted back toward the main entrance to get to the hut with Ming Ya. They were walking in opposite directions, but for once their thoughts ran parallel.

_What… what happened back there?_

_..._


	7. Cadence

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 7: Cadence

The return home that evening was much like the return had been the previous evening. Hong and Zuko made their way back to their hut along with the other stone carvers; when they arrived, they separated, Hong to the loft and Zuko to the futon, to sleep next to their women. The little incident in the mines hadn't gone too far from his thoughts, but the fatigue of the previous day had compounded the fatigue from working all day that day, and he had barely changed out of his street clothes when his head hit the futon and he crashed.

"Zuko," whispered a voice moments later. "Zuko!" He opened his eyes blearily. It wasn't a moment later, he realized; it was a week and a half later, and the days had blended one into the other until he didn't remember when he had gotten to Tanarak, or the last time he'd slept on a proper bed with hangings, or the feeling of taking a long, soaking bath. The girl hissing at him came into perspective, her long hair loose around her shoulders, framing him with its soft thickness.

"I'm up," muttered Zuko grouchily. "Why am I up?" Katara sat back on her heels, and he noticed that she was already dressed. She held her parka in one hand, and his in the other, along with his day clothes.

"Because today, we're going to follow a basket," she said decisively. Zuko realized that it was some hours before dawn; the distributors would start making their rounds to the huts soon, if they hadn't already. He dressed quickly and without shame before Katara. _Adventure makes strange bedfellows,_ thought Katara as he changed.

_Literally._

They rolled the futon and quietly made their way through the front door and out into the pitch-black, snowy landscape. A few flakes still fell, and counting back the weeks, Zuko realized that the Fire Nation must be entering the early days of fall. For a moment, he was homesick; in his mind's eye, he could see the leaves in the garden changing colors, the grasses fading to a dull brown, the air picking up a sweet crispness that left the skin tingling hours after one had returned indoors.

Katara interrupted his reverie by pointing out a parka-clad distributor opening the door to Nawang's hut. With one smooth flick of her wrist, she froze the hinges so the door remained just slightly open. Using the stealth learned during hard years of war, the two crept in and watched the distributor hand off the baskets of food to a pair of servants. One went directly into Nawang's inner sanctum, the private core of the evergreen; but the other feinted, and abruptly turned left after following her partner for several feet. Katara and Zuko looked at each other and nodded fiercely; stealing after the woman, they realized that they were making their way deeper and deeper into the tree. Zuko's blood buzzed strangely in his ears. It couldn't be sunrise; that was hours away. Still, the buzzing grew louder and louder until Zuko had to focus intensely just to follow the servant girl without giving himself away.

Katara swiped at him suddenly, and both benders flattened themselves against a wall, shielded by a lacquered-wood buffet covered in unlit candles. The woman had stopped and was looking around her suspiciously. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, she leaned in until her ear touched the wall and her mouth was at a knothole in the wooden panels.

""_My life I give to my country_," she recited rapidly. "_With my hands I fight for the Phoenix King. With my mind I seek ways to better my country. And with my feet may our March of Civilization continue._" Zuko's blood ran cold; in this city of hatred and despair, monotony and seclusion, a decade after the war had ended, why was this woman reciting the Fire Nation oath that pledged allegiance to his father? The buzzing in his ears left as unexpectedly as it had arrived, and now he could see why; moments after the servant had repeated the oath, the knotted panel slid into a pocket and disappeared from sight. Looking around once more, the servant slid through the opening and turned a sharp right, walking a few feet in pitch blackness. Katara and Zuko followed her, squeezing themselves into the walls as much as possible; the space was less than three feet wide, and the servant would have to make her way out without seeing them, or they were lost.

She was doing something in the pitch dark. Katara and Zuko strained their vision, but neither could decipher what was happening until the servant stepped back, tugged on a rope, and then exited quickly back out to Nawang's evergreen sanctum. Where she had been, at her eye level, the basket was hovering. They waited until the knotted panel slid shut before Zuko ignited a minute flame on his palm so that they could see.

The basket was affixed to something like a dumbwaiter; the box had wheels connected to a set of tracks, and the tracks disappeared into a tunnel. The tunnel was hardly wide enough for a person's head, but when Zuko sent a blast of fire down it, Fire Nation insignias colored into existence every few feet.

"Like the mines," whispered Zuko, and turned to look at Katara. "I know she's at the end of this tunnel."

Katara nodded, but her eyes were worried.

"We don't fit," she murmured. "How will we get to her?" The tightness of the space was beginning to wear on them. There were barely four tiles to stand on, and the oppressive darkness of the room seemed to eat at Zuko's tiny flame. He cast the light about for some kind of help, and was about to give up when a spark briefly illuminated a silver ladder above the dumbwaiter. Katara saw it and motioned for Zuko to give her a lift. The situation seemed to tense for words; extinguishing his light, the firebender laced his fingers together and hoisted the waterbender toward the ladder. When she made contact, two things happened; a flare shot up over the ladder and Katara screamed in pain.

"What happened?" asked Zuko; Katara had fallen from the second rung, hanging on to the side of the now-visible ladder with her left hand. He could see that her right hand was red and swelling fast, and the smell of burnt skin alerted him to the reason for her distress. The bottom rung and every other rung after was glowing, first red, then white-hot as the trap warmed up; the flare sizzled overhead, rising higher and higher. Zuko shuddered to think of what would happen when it reached its destination.

"Do you want to come down?" he asked Katara loudly, but she knitted her brows determinedly and shook her head no. She single-handedly bent a stream of water out of the corked skin that had been placed in the food distribution basket and healed the burnt hand; when she finished, she let the water fall to the side and extended her now-smooth hand.

"Come on," she said tersely. "If it's this heavily guarded, we must be on the right track." Zuko ignored her hand and leapt, using the walls as push points until his feet and hands landed on safe rungs. Katara had already started to climb above him, and the flare was still rising. They climbed for a long, long time; when they finally reached the top of the ladder, panting, they realized that the light from the flare had intensified. It was coming back down.

"Spirits alive," muttered Katara. The flare had begun to sound, turning into something more like a festival rocket; the moment it began to pop, thousands of red eyes appeared in the dark heights of the cavern.

Spiderflies.

Spiderflies of a size Zuko and Katara had never seen. They were considered common house pests in the outside world, but here, they were bigger than schoolchildren.

Their winged, eight-limbed bodies hung suspended from the unfathomable heights and stretched on miles of sinuous, silky, poisonous webs through the people-sized tunnel they now needed to follow. The flare had woken them, and they began to scramble; Zuko's foot had jiggled a web. If they didn't move quickly, they would become food for these mammoth insects. Zuko reached out to Katara to drag her into the tunnel, sending a blast of fire to turn the web in the way to ashes; but Katara had frozen, petrified, staring at the spiderflies with abject horror.

"Come _on_ Katara," he insisted. "_We need to move._" Shaking, she grasped the proffered hand and ran after Zuko, drying out the webs so they would burn easier ahead of Zuko once she regained her composure. The spiderflies were chasing them, and she and Zuko had begun working in tangent; she dried out the webs, he blasted lightning at the spiderflies. Regular fire hadn't worked against them, and when Katara shouted _Get on the ladder, there are no more webs! _he sent a single bolt searing into the wide-open pincers of a spiderfly his own size. Some web had gotten on his arm; as he and Katara climbed desperately away from the spiderfly colony, the skin began to bubble and swell. Their lungs burned, but they didn't stop climbing until they reached the top of the ladder. A quick survey of the landing told them there were no more spiderflies; and since no flares had gone off, they threw themselves on the hard ground with the faith that they were, for the moment, safe.

"Let me see that," demanded Katara, who had seen that Zuko was nursing his arm. He drew in a sharp breath when her fingers grazed the skin, and her mouth set into a firm line. She mumbled something about not having any water, but shot him a quick glance.

"Can I try something?" she asked him. Her blue eyes were troubled, and Zuko could see why; whatever was going on with his skin was spreading, and it had already reached his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, and Katara rolled up the sleeves of her dress. Closing her eyes, she placed her hands a breath away from his arm and concentrated. Zuko felt something inside him stir; it was as though his blood was rejecting the poison of the spiderfly web. He had seen Katara bloodbend before, in an act of rage and revenge, but this was different; it was as though she was trying to work _with_ his blood, enhancing its natural healing abilities.

"There," she said a little shakily, and Zuko realized his eyes had been closed also. The skin was still red, but the swelling had gone down and the venom was no longer spreading. He bowed to her in thanks, but she shook him off and stood up.

"We're getting closer," he said, and Katara looked at him curiously. He nodded.

"The farther we travel, the closer the insignias get to each other on the walls." This was good news for them both. Of course, they were glad to be reaching their destination; but they had been traveling for what seemed like hours, and their stomachs were stirring with hunger pangs. This tunnel seemed fairly straightforward. They walked, covering each other with tense bodies, prepared for any trap; but as the tunnel wound on, they turned more and more curves without meeting any kind of ambush or setup. Katara had the eerie sensation of being observed and never let her guard down; Zuko's gold eyes searched out the way anxiously, the flame he carried on his palm never dwindling.

_Whoosh._

They were in the dark before they knew what was happening. A cold wind whistled through the tunnel, and Zuko and Katara pressed their backs into each other, trying to force their eyes into adjusting.

"I don't know how you got here," said a rusty, unnatural voice. The wind shrieked louder, and Katara swore she could it carrying snow past her face. They were in complete darkness, however, and nothing became clearer.

"If I kill you, nobody will find your bodies. Like the others before you, you will simply cease to exist to the world." The benders pressed into each other urgently, a cold dread snaking through their veins.

"If I send you back, you will be revealed for what you are, and they will make your death a public spectacle." The voice was as cold as the wind, and seemed to be coming from the tunnel walls; its cadence rang from everywhere at once, assailing their heightened sense of hearing with its grating.

Suddenly, Zuko slumped behind Katara.

"Zuko!" she screamed carelessly, turning quickly to try and catch him. She succeeded only in making his fall more bearable. Feeling around she realized that a needle-sharp pin of some sort had hit him at a vital nerve center. Before she could suffer the same fate, she threw up and arm and used the wind as a shield; for a moment it was as though she were airbending, but then the snow she _knew_ she had felt in the wind responded and created a thin ice shield. As she tried to pull the pin out of Zuko, she had to continue to form the shield; pins cracked the ice and quickly spiderwebbed. If Katara wasn't careful, the shield would collapse into tiny shards of ice. She finally grasped the pin and firmly pulled it out; using a little bloodbending, she got Zuko to sluggishly move about.

"Enough!" screamed Katara, and with great effort, froze everything around her. The wind stopped whistling and the ground had frosted over; although she could not see anything, she knew that the source of the voice was still watching her. Her chest heaved with the effort of keeping everything frozen, and her hair had come apart, sticking to the sweat she didn't know she could produce at these cold temperatures.

"Who _are _you?" she yelled into the darkness. "_What do you want_?" The voice made a sound of disgust.

"You, who disturb _my_ solitude, invade _my _sanctuary, attack _my_ creatures – you ask me who _I _am? I believe you should answer your own question, and add to that why you are here!" Something in the tone indicated to Katara that the voice was feminine, and her shoulders tensed. _Could it be_?

"I am Katara, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe," she stated proudly. She prodded Zuko up; if her hunch was right, it was better that he introduce himself. He nodded and dragged to his feet, using Katara for support.

"And my name is Zuko," he forced out through the pain in his chest. "Fire Lord Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai, ruler of my great Nation." There was no response from anywhere, until the voice reappeared much closer.

"Give me one reason why I should believe you," the rusty voice intoned. "One reason why I should accept as true what so many others have been sent to lie to me about." Zuko's eyes widened as he realized that underneath the rasp of the unused voice lay a familiar cadence.

"My mother once told me that she had done everything to protect me; that I was never to forget who I was." His voice hitched and he leaned harder on Katara. "Though I lost my way, I never stopped thinking of her; and since I found my way, I have been doing everything to reunite with her." Tears sprang to Katara's eyes at the emotion in his voice.

"Please, tell me my efforts have not been in vain." There was no response at first, and Zuko lit a small flame in the palm of his hand to reveal a cloaked, hooded figure standing before him.

"Mother?" he rasped tentatively. The figure struck out a pale hand, fingers landing on the smooth side of his face. They traced the curve of his eyes, the regal nose, the high cheekbones, the strong brows.

"My son," whispered the figure.

…

Ming Ya climbed down the stairs as per her usual morning routine, dressed and ready to rouse the young couple she had grown rather fond of. Her slippered feet hit the cold floor and she turned to look under the stairs. At first, she wasn't sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her; she rubbed them, blinked owlishly, and peered under the stairs again.

The futon was neatly rolled up out of the way. Pillows were stacked next to slippers, and sleeping clothes were folded and stored next to the futon.

"Hong," she called, her voice watery. "Hong, wake up. Oma and Shu are gone!" Her husband blearily rose from the bed, dressed, and made his way down the stairs; upon regarding the neat desolation the couple had left behind, his mouth set into a grim line.

"Prepare a gift," he told his wife. "I'm going to talk to the guards, and then I'm going to see Nawang. Ming Ya nodded sadly and hoped that for their own sake the couple had not elected to run away or do something equally stupid; if they were accused of deserting…

Ming Ya shuddered as she thought of the last execution in Tanarak.

"They seemed like such good children," she murmured, remembering their tender, awkward romance, their sleeping pattern, their morning parting.

_Until tonight, my beautiful Oma_, he would say, drawing her in for a kiss.

_I'll be counting the moments_, she would invariably reply, touching two fingers to her lips. And although it had seemed a bit of an act at first, Ming Ya had understood long before them how and when the words became real.

"Oma, Shu… be safe." She finished preparing a gift basket as an offering for Nawang and silently handed it to her husband, watching as his back grew smaller, until he finally disappeared into the center of the village.

_Safe._

…

Author's Note: Thanks to my readers for being so patient! I covered two extra shifts this week and had an exam in the morning, so I didn't get to finish this chapter until now. Please review! I love to know what you guys think, where you feel it's going, where you think it should go, your suspicions as to what's happening… anything constructive, review away! - Lady Asvin


	8. Trading Tales

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 8: Trading Tales

It was too beautiful, too terrible. So many times in his memories he had seen his mother, heard her earnest whispers, watched her pull the cloak over her head and disappear from his room, running down the gallery, evaporating through the columns into the unforgiving night. So many times he had asked himself _why, why? _and watched as the world around him in the microcosm of the Fire Nation Palace crashed down before his father's peerless, cruel ambitions. So many times he had questioned his path, and questioned himself.

_That's who you are, Zuko. You keep fighting even when it's hard._

So many times those words had become true.

And now, standing before him, calling him son, was this unsure figure with a raspy voice. Her hands were still soft, her nails were still long; only the cloak had seemed to age, the reddish-purple velvet becoming stiff and scratchy. He was scared to lift the hood, scared to know if his journey had finally ended.

_It's too good to be true, _said a voice in his head.

_It's too strange not to be_, said another.

He was still leaning on Katara, he realized, and he looked at her, eyes questioning, pleading desperately for advice. Her eyes were similarly expressive; wide with uncertainty and anxiety, she had to content herself with grasping his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The pressure seemed to say, _Whatever you do, I'm behind you_; and so, stirring his courage, he lifted a tentative hand to the figure's hood and began to pull it back. They were in complete darkness now; the tension was palpable, and Zuko's rough fingers finally caused the fabric to fall back and away from the figure's face. He lit his palm with the same free hand; the flickering, unsure light revealed a beautiful face, a face that had avoided the ravages of time.

Thick brown hair fell loosely around her visage once the hood was gone. Her eyes, wide open, seemed unseeing; their lack of function was confirmed when Katara pointed to the clouds shadowing the once-concentrated golden topaz of her irises. The familiar curve of her mouth, the shared high cheekbones, the slanting eyes his sister had inherited –

_Spirits, _thought Katara. _She's beautiful. _Before she could move to support him, the firebender had let go of Katara and crushed the figure into a longing embrace.

"Mom, it's me," he said, his voice thick with tears. "It's me, Zuko!" He began to cry as he had not since childhood; as he silently sobbed, the woman stroked his hair gently, eyes unfocused.

"My son, my son," she kept whispering. "My Zuko…" Katara felt small in the face of their emotional reunion. Half of heart ached that she would never find her mother as Zuko had; the other half rejoiced that his tireless efforts to find his mother had paid off. It was a Herculean task, holding back her tears, but she somehow managed; only when the wave of emotion had subsided did she truly feel prepared to stand up to whatever would come next in this bizarre adventure.

Zuko had stopped crying. Shoulders squared, he took his mother's hand.

"Mom, I want you to meet Katara," said the Fire Lord, standing regally. "She is a Master Waterbender and the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe. I'm also lucky to count her among my closest friends." He turned to Katara, beckoning for her to move closer to them.

"Without her, I never would have found you." His voice had gone low and husky, a difference noted by his mother; she bowed gently, and Katara bowed back, forgetting the woman couldn't see her.

"Thank you, Katara," she said softly. "You've returned my life to me." The waterbender stared back-and-forth between the beautiful ex-Fire Lady and her son, and smiled.

"No need for thanks, Lady Ursa" she responded. "Zuko helped me find the man that killed my mother long ago; it was my pleasure – my duty even – to help him find you." The woman's brow wrinkled, and she clutched her son's hand.

"I am only Ursa," she responded, and turned her head toward Zuko. "It would appear we have a lot to talk about. Follow me." She began to walk away, son in tow, and stopped abruptly when she realized that Katara wasn't following.

"Katara?" she asked. The girl awkwardly dug a toe into the ground. She didn't know if this is where her journey ended; he had found his mother, he had no further need of her. He knew where he was and how to get out of Tanarak. He was a master firebender, and his mother seemed quite talented with traps.

"I… I should go back," she said, sounding like a child instead of a woman with twenty-five years on her body. But Zuko wasn't having any of it; she had accompanied him this far, was she really going to turn her back just as the fruits of her labor were beginning to appear?

"No," he said in a low voice. "I can't tell the story without you, Katara." It wasn't just the tone of his voice, she realized. It wasn't just the extended hand, or his mother's nod of assent. It was something in his eyes, something lurking behind that intense gold gaze, that pushed her forward and made her almost unconsciously put her hand in his. Still, she didn't walk.

"But it's not my story to tell," she said, holding back. "This is all yours." Zuko shook his head and pulled her hand.

"You've been there all along," he said huskily. "First as my enemy; then as my travel companion; then as my friend. All of those then, and now…" his eyes widened, for he realized that he didn't know how to complete his own sentence.

_And now, Your Excellency?_

He shook his head and shrugged it off, pulling again. Katara let herself be dragged this time, and Ursa started off, leading them through a series of tunnels. She was surefooted as a mountain beast, but wary as a shirshu.

"Your father put me here, thinking I would be incapacitated by my blindness. He was mistaken." Ursa's voice was clearer with every sentence; even so, it was evident that she had not spoken in quite some time. She said nothing else, but pulled them along in a single-file-chain; the tunnels grew narrower and narrower, until finally Zuko had to hunch and Katara was scraping her back along the tunnel walls. They had been scurrying like this for some time; Zuko's sixth sense told him that the sun had risen several hours before, and still they hurried in absolute blackness, moving ahead by feel.

"Stop," commanded Ursa suddenly. "We're here." Zuko and Katara looked around, but didn't see anything; the tunnel had come to a dead end, and they were crammed into the little pathway like rice in a bowl.

"Squeeze together, and mind your feet stay in the circle." Zuko lit his palm, revealing a circle of scorched stone that he and Katara struggled to fit into. In the end, she was pressed into his chest, his nose sniffing her hair.

"Steady," said Ursa, and she did something on the wall behind them. The circle of earth suddenly shot up with all due speed, and the trio pressed into the middle of the circle to avoid falling. Katara couldn't see how they were being propelled upward, but she smelled explosive powder. Zuko was contemplating the hydraulics introduced to him by the Mechanist. When the ride stopped, the two benders stumbled after Ursa, who drew aside the curtain hanging before a doorway.

"Oh," gasped Katara; a sharp, cold wind had taken her breath away. She looked around. They were somewhere at a very, very high altitude; icy peaks ringed the windows that were wide open to the harsh winter air. There were no curtains other than the one on the door, and no fireplace. A little section was cut out of the cave wall next to the doorway they had entered through; Katara and Zuko could both see that this was where the basket of food would have led. Indeed, the basket had arrived long before them; sans water, as Katara had used it earlier, but intact and frozen solid.

"Welcome to my home," murmured Ursa. "I have never seen it; but I imagine by your silence that my mental image does it justice." Zuko looked at his mother, finally letting go of Katara's hand to put an arm around Ursa's shoulders.

"Mother… mom," began Zuko. "How long have you been here?" Ursa actually threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh, Zuko," she said gently. "I've been here since I was banished for killing Azulon." Zuko's blood ran cold; he had suspected as much, hearing the stories around the palace, but to have his mother – his gentle, kind, loving mother – admit to murder was a shock to his system. On the other side of the room, Katara shivered.

_Zuko, that's what moms are like. If you mess with their babies, they'll bite you back._

He couldn't help thinking that his mother had retaliated with one heck of a bite.

"I think we have a lot to tell each other," he said raspily. A strange sense of unease and nervousness pervaded his being, and he shifted. Ursa, however, nodded.

"Put these on," she said, and offered them very thick robes. Katara and Zuko obliged, and then sat down the low table in the middle of the room.

"Where would you like to start?" asked their hostess, hands folded on her lap. Zuko shifted his gaze to Katara, who nodded in encouragement, and then back to his mother.

"Start with the night you left," said Zuko, voice low. "Start with the night my father insulted Fire Lord Azulon, Uncle Iroh, and his entire nation for the sake of his ambition." The line was spoken clearly, without inflection, but the atmosphere rendered it nothing short of dramatic. Ursa pressed her unseeing eyes closed.

"It's not a night I like to remember," she said, unknowingly echoing the sentiments of a Water Tribe boy nearly a decade before.

_It's not a day I like to remember._

"As you probably suspect, your father and I did not marry for love." Ursa's voice had a raspy undertone that reminded Katara very much of Zuko's.

"We married because the house of Koguma – my family's house – made an excellent match for Ozai's status as the younger son or the current Fire Lord. I had not met your father before we married; I had only met Iroh and his lovely wife Jiaying. I saw how happy they were, and the kind of man Iroh was – strong, accomplished, dedicated, loving – and I suppose I fell in love with Ozai by proxy, expecting him to be much like his brother." Her face crumpled.

"I was wrong. We were married in record only, the day I turned nineteen. Once I bore Ozai a son – once I had you, Zuko – I became an ornamental figure. Ozai let his ambition have free reign. The night he insulted your grandfather, his punishment was to kill you; but he made it quite clear that it would be no punishment at all, not to him. Though I threw myself at his feet and begged him to have a father's mercy, your father was pitiless. Until, that is, I solved his problem with a simple arrangement." Ursa drew a ragged breath, squaring her shoulders.

"I promised to put him on the throne, if he would promise me your well-being in exchange. He agreed, of course, but he is a rat viper of a man if there ever was one; as Azulon was putting the seal on his dying wish; as he was drinking the poison from his fragrant plum tea; as he rasped his last breath, your father was turning me in to Fire Nation police.

"He said they'd kill me if I didn't do exactly as he said. So I followed his directions; I ran to the docks. I saw you for the last time that night. I saw for the last time that night. When I reached the docks, I was forced by Ozai's soldiers to drink some dregs out of an old iron drum of firewhiskey. I slept on the ship, but I didn't realize that I was blind until morning failed to come.

"They left me here. They walked me through the tunnels and left me in this room, with an arrangement that I should be given three food baskets every day. I have tried to keep my sanity; the days have all blended together. I can't remember anymore what a robe looks like, or how to paint my face." Her eyes hardened, and her mouth turned into a grim line.

" I know that I have not aged; I think Ozai knows as well. And so, every once in a while, he sends men here to kill me." Her face was a stone-cold mask of hate, and ice seemed to course through her veins instead of blood.

"I have become quite adept at setting traps, however," she said. "and the ignorant village of Tanarak does the rest of the work for me."

Zuko's hands tightened into white-knuckled fists of rage. His father deserved every last punishment the war tribunal decided to place on his shoulders, and then some.

_If only he could suffer a thousand fold the pain he has caused others_, thought Zuko bitterly, closing his eyes. A warm hand on his arm drew him away from his searing thoughts.

He opened his eyes, amber meeting blue.

_Ozai is dead to you,_ her orbs seemed to say. _You've found your mother. Now comfort her._

_But look what my father has done here! _he wanted to shout. _She's changed. She's hard and bitter and lonely… she's different!_

"You've changed too, Zuko," said Katara softly, regarding him. "Tell your mother how you've changed."

Ursa turned toward her son, and on impulse, he grabbed her hand and put it to his scar. Her eyes widened with concern as she slowly traced each ripple of the scar that had marked him for so long. The melted flesh, the permanently squinting eye, the shell of his crumpled ear… all of these she felt, the sensation at once rough and smooth beneath her gentle fingertips.

_You will fight for your honor._

_I meant you no disrespect! I am your loyal son._

_Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!_

_I won't fight you._

_You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher._

Zuko began his story without shame and without attachment. The reason for his banishment; his days spent fervently looking for the Avatar. Uncle Iroh's mentorship and the desperate desire to regain honor in his father's eyes. His capture of innocents, his killing of enemies; his days in Ba Sing Se as a refugee, and his struggles with himself. Everything came pouring out at once, as though he'd never spoken of it; and though he had, he had never explained anything to someone that had not at all been there. His betrayal of the Avatar; his betrayal of his Uncle; his betrayal of his father; all came rushing from his mouth as fast as he could form the words. At some point in the story, Katara had begun to doze off; he was just explaining to his mother the Dancing Dragon when a weight on his shoulder alerted him that the waterbender had finally caved in to sleep.

Ursa gestured to a corner where a section of the floor was sunken in and occupied by rough pillows and blankets.

"I sleep there," she said. "You can wake her up and tell her that she's welcome to use it." Zuko turned to observe the woman on his shoulder. She looked so peaceful when she slept; he had noticed that after a few nights at Hong and Ming Ya's, and somehow the thought had comforted him every night since. He sighed.

"No, I won't wake her," he said gruffly. After so many weeks, he knew Katara's bedtime routine by heart. He took the garish yellow ties out of her hair – _Yellow does not flow with you,_ he thought – lifted her up gently, and laid her on the right side of the bed. Her hair loopies came off next, and he put them on the table with her ties and tucked the thick blanket around her body. Her brow wrinkled in consternation; she was cold, but there was nothing he could do barring getting into the bed himself.

Although that had been their habit for so long, it was no longer necessary.

A slight pang echoed in Zuko's brain, but it was interrupted by Ursa's soft voice.

"Who is this Katara of the Water Tribe?" asked his mother. "A title does me no good at all, and all the waterbending prowess in the world cannot describe her personality to me." Zuko colored a little; who, indeed, was Katara of the Water Tribe?

"She discovered Aang," he started at last. "She's the reason the war truly ended. If she had not found the Avatar, if she had not traveled with him and led him to my father, all nations would be burnt to the ground by now and conquered under the Fire Nation standard." Zuko exhaled slowly; although the world had applauded the Avatar, worshiped him for ending the war, congratulated him for bringing peace – although he was the hero – he could not have gone a single day without Katara. She had mothered him, trained him, sparred with him, even bullied him when he didn't want to be a savior. And he had loved her, loved her as much with all of the capacity he had.

_It wasn't enough,_ thought a little voice in Zuko's head, but he ignored it.

Without Katara at his back, the Avatar would never have become the champion everyone claimed he was.

"She's really amazing, mom," he said after a pause. "She was the first one to treat me like a person instead of a walking mark of shame. She knows the loss of a mother," he said, voice catching. "Our armies raided her tribe and killed her mother, killed many of her people. She took on the responsibility of all of those she lost, and when she began traveling with the Avatar, she took on the responsibility of all of those she found. Even me; even when she threatened to kill me, because I had so easily betrayed her, she made herself responsible for my well-being."

He looked at Katara's sleeping form.

"She has done nothing with her life but care for others; and like you, she knows the loss of a son for his own protection." Zuko's voice broke, and Ursa drew in a sharp breath, surprised; she couldn't see the girl, but her voice had sounded much too young.

"This Katara… she has children?" asked his mother. "Has she a husband? A family?" Zuko shook his head, even knowing that his mother could not appreciate the gesture.

"I am the only one who knows… I, and her stepmother Kamala. She bore the Avatar a son. He wooed her for so long, but in the end…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"They grew apart," he said lamely. "It is her story to tell, not mine." He clamped his mouth shut; somehow, the thought of Katara's painful courtship and the suggestion of her lying with the Avatar did not sit well with him.

"You love her," said Ursa plainly. Zuko shook his head, shaggy hair covering the intense amber of his eyes.

"I am lucky to count her among my closest friends," he replied. His voice was molten with emotion. "Few would accompany me to find you; less would protect me from a village where benders are reviled. I traveled with her, with her brother, with the Avatar, with the earthbending master Toph Bei Fong, with a skilled Kyoshi warrior named Suki; but of them all, Katara alone has supported me in every decision I've ever made after the War. She is…" he looked at her again.

"Amazing." He let the word hang in the air, caught in the cold winds coming through the paneless windows.

"She pretended to be your lover," prompted Ursa. "She calms you. You look to her for reassurance. Shouldn't that tell you something?" Zuko said nothing, still looking at the waterbender; she had started to shiver, and he wondered how she would keep warm that night. It would be so easy to just curl up around her and use his bending to keep her toasty; but the harsh reality of the situation they were in pierced through his cozy thoughts.

"She is a close friend, nothing more," he said stubbornly. "You should get some sleep. Tomorrow, we're going to find a way to get you out of here. It's time Fire Lady Ursa returned to her throne." His mother smiled somewhat sadly, but Zuko set his jaw. He cleared a space on the far side of the room and lay down blankets and parkas for his mother. As for himself, he sat up against a wall, fully intending to sleep there.

Only when he was sure everyone was asleep did he stealthily move to Katara's side, lift the blanket and crawl in next to her.

"Finally," she murmured sleepily, resting a cold hand on his chest. "'Night, Zuko." Something about her tone made it impossible not to smile a little bit.

"Good night, Katara," said the firebender in his throaty voice, unconsciously pulling her closer.

From the other side of the room, Ursa's sightless eyes were wide open in wonder.

_My son… My Zuko… he is grown. He is a man, now… a man in love._

And though she knew he would deny it to his grave, the thought made her happy. She had wanted better for her children than the marriage she had entered; and although her hope for Azula had waned from the insanity Zuko said plagued her, her hope for her son flared still.

_It will be interesting to see what morning brings._

…

Author's Note: I'm trying to write as much as possible, but it's a little harder now! My anniversary is coming (3 years! Wow!) and school is getting tougher, so I'm cranking out the chapters as fast as I feasibly can. I hope the quality of my writing isn't declining as much as I feel it is. Please review! Any comments/concerns/questions are very, very much appreciated!

PS: Explanations are forthcoming. Tanarak's aging, the mines, Kamala's part, Toph's school, Tenzin and the story of Mai will all be explained in the remaining chapters, I promise!


	9. Nightmares and Daydreams

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 9: Nightmares and Daydreams

"_No, Aang! This just isn't _right! _Maybe it's common in the Fire Nation or in the Earth Kingdom, but in the Southern Water Tribe we just don't marry because it's convenient!" Her face was blotchy and red, her eyes were swollen from crying; behind the thick door at her back, a cradle held a grey-eyed infant swaddled in furs._

"_Katara, we have a son now! You've told me how you feel about me; I can't deny that it hurts. But what about Tenzin? What about _our_ son?" Aang grasped her forearms, similar grey eyes enormous and pleading; even at eighteen years, he was barely her height. Katara fought the urge to laugh hysterically, desperately, and instead turned her face away from his._

"_Aang, I need you to answer something truthfully," she said, her words harsh with grief. Something like hope glimmered in his eyes, but she knew that the look would quickly be struck down._

"_Anything," said the boy, and the waterbender almost rolled her eyes._

"_If I agree to marry you – if I agree to spend the rest of my days as your wife, taking care of our son, living in an Air Temple and running a school – how will that be different from the situation I escaped three seasons ago?" Her voice had softened, grown pained; and the Avatar could not look her in the face._

"_Katara, I – I'll try harder, I promise! I'll be home more, or I'll take you and Tenzin with me! We can go to festivals together; we can be a real family! And once Tenzin has brothers and sisters-"_

_Katara couldn't take it anymore._

"_No," she said. "No." Aang's grip tightened._

"_What do you mean 'no,' Katara?" he asked, not liking her defeated tone. Her shoulders sagged._

"_I can't spend my life pretending to love you like that, Aang," she said finally. "I am your dearest friend; but I can't spend the rest of my days chasing after you, raising Tenzin, running a school – I can't take care of everyone forever, Aang! I want to have my own life! I want to have a close family that supports me, a loving husband-"_

"_But _I_ would be a loving husband," interrupted Aang desperately; nevertheless, Katara waved him away._

"_That I love in return," she countered. "I'm only twenty; I still have so much that I want to do…" She hung her head._

"_What I did – how I left you – was wrong. But something beautiful came out of it! Look at him," she gestured behind her. "He's strong and healthy! He's an airbender! He is a miracle, Aang, and it isn't fair to make him grow up with this huge _dysfunction_ of a couple for parents!" She had reached her limit; she felt depleted, as though arguing with the Avatar had left her devoid of energy, of emotion._

_Aang squeezed his eyes shut; the expression on his face implied that he had a headache of epic proportions._

"_We leave tomorrow," he said at last. His voice had changed; it was sad, but determined, and Katara's stomach turned over._

"_What do you mean, 'We leave tomorrow?'" she asked. "I just told you, I'm not going-"_

"_Not you," he said, effort weighing down his words. "Tenzin. And I. We leave tomorrow." Katara's jaw dropped. She knew that the issue of Tenzin wouldn't be solved so easily, but to just relinquish him to Aang? He was her son, too, and the spirits themselves knew that she had brought him into this world with more love than most children received in a lifetime._

"_You can't just…" she trailed off, because Aang's tattoos were starting to glow, the light faint around the corners._

"_Katara, I don't know how to handle this," he said petulantly. "So I'm just going to take him, and we're going to leave. You said you didn't want to follow me; so don't." His words were childishly hurtful, and for once, Katara had no reply._

"_We'll come back when he's old enough, and then we'll see." He turned his back on the Water Tribe girl, but before he had gone fully out of earshot, she called out one last plea._

"_Aang… take care of him," said the woman brokenly, and when he was finally gone she collapsed against the wall of her son's room and cried until the infant needed attention._

…

"_Hey, Zuzu," she said languorously. The most fashionable robes hung from her thin frame, and her thick, black hair was done up in some new, stylish pins. The sun was rising at her back, showing off her narrow, angled silhouette._

"_Good morning Mai… what a pleasant surprise," he replied. "You don't come see me in the mornings as often anymore; I though you preferred to sleep in." The girl made her way across the room to his desk, smoothly seating herself in his lap and winding her arms sinuously around his neck._

"_I know, Zuzu," she drawled, voice unchanged. "But today is your birthday… and the council was bound to get to you early, so I decided I'd get here first." She almost sounded pleased, but then, Zuko had long ago given up trying to discern the nuances of his girlfriend's speech. It so often seemed that there were none._

_They had an ordinary breakfast together; Zuko attempted some small talk, but Mai did not even bother responding until they had finished eating._

"_I have a gift for you," she said, and something about the phrase made his skin crawl. She took a tissue-wrapped package from the sleeve of her robe and handed it to him. He regarded her carefully._

"_Thank you," he said hesitantly, but she brushed him off._

"_Open it," she said. He obliged, carefully removing the tissue wrapping._

_Inside was a small, leather-bound volume with a title of engraved gold._

"_A History of Fire Nation Courtship," he read aloud, and then looked at her strangely. She almost, _almost _smiled. Her long fingers opened up the book, and he saw that she had underlined certain phrases._

"_After six lunar cycles, it is customary to propose marriage to a consort," read the tome. "Any shorter is inauspicious; any longer is impolite and suspect." Mai sat back on her heels._

"_We've been going out longer than that," she said. "But you were away from home for so long… I thought maybe you had just forgotten what you're supposed to do." He frowned and pushed the book onto the table._

"_I didn't forget, Mai, but we have some serious issues to talk out before marriage gets anywhere near this picture." His voice was completely flat, and Mai's eyes slanted dangerously toward Zuko._

"_What do you mean by issues?" she asked, her voice typically emotionless. "I think we're perfect together." Zuko looked at her incredulously._

"_Mai, we need to talk about our expectations from each other, what we want out of our future together! We need to take the time to learn more about each other!" Mai rolled her eyes._

"_I want to be Fire Lady," she said simply. "I want to sit by your side as we rule over the greatest Nation in the world." Zuko's face had gone red._

"_What about children? What about heirs?" he asked. "I thought you didn't want children, but that comes with the territory of Fire Lady!" Mai's face was impassive._

"_Don't be silly," she said. "I'm ok with you using one of Ty Lee's sisters, or some other noblewoman, as the mother of your children." She was being brutally honest. "I just don't see myself ballooning to some malformed version of myself for a kid." Zuko had had enough. He pushed the food away, pushed his girlfriend off his lap, and pointed at the door._

"_Mai, we can talk about this later," he said stiffly, trying to keep his composure. "I'm going to meet with the Council." The girl's mouth tightened._

"_I'm not going to change my mind," she said flatly. "And the Council won't change theirs. You're twenty-two, Zuko, we're not children anymore. There's no more war; it's all politics now." His head buzzed loudly with her grating voice, reaching an annoying crescendo that gave him a pounding headache._

"_Mai…" he began, when a sudden clarity overtook his mind._

"_Yes, Zuko?" she asked, waiting expectantly in the doorway. He met her gaze steadily, and bowed._

"_Thank you for everything," he said. "But I think it's finally time we stopped pretending this is working. You can keep your apartments and servants, and I will appoint you a useful position in the Palace; but we are not together as of right now." He almost smiled with relief at the astonished look on her face. For once, her pale skin colored angrily; but instead of saying anything, she merely swept out the door like an angry red shadow._

_Later, when his council convened, he was met with glares and accusations._

_"She was a wonderful candidate, My Lord."_

"_Your Highness, how did you manage to offend the Lady Mai?"_

"_Her parents have high social influence, Fire Lord Zuko; she was a very auspicious match."_

Because she's not what I wanted_, he would think to himself._

_She doesn't care._

_It's not how it's supposed to be._

_It's not what I wanted!_

"It's not what I wanted!" yelled Zuko and Katara simultaneously, eyes flying open. Katara had tears in her eyes; her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs, and she was soaked in cold sweat. Zuko, on the other hand, was furious; steam drifted from his nostrils, and his eyes crackled with frustration.

"I'm sorry," murmured Katara through her tears. "Did I wake you?" He could almost laugh at that; the waterbender was sitting up, shoulders slumped, chest heaving from producing the tears that were streaming over her face, and she was worried about having woken _him_?

"No, just a nightmare," he said finally. His blood was quiet in his veins, and he knew that he had only been sleeping for a short while.

"Me too," said the girl softly. She used her dress to wipe the tears from her face. "Sorry anyway," she said. "You shouldn't have to wake up to a wreck like this."

Zuko fought the overwhelming urge to put his arms around her.

"Can I ask you something?" she turned her luminous blue eyes on him, making his stomach feel funny. Her fingers tangled themselves in her dress, and she worried her bottom lip.

"Anything," he replied, and she shuddered involuntarily, remembering the dream that had woken her up. She hesitated for a moment, presumably choosing her words. Her eyes shifted uneasily, and her shoulders remained hunched.

"What am I like?" she asked finally, simply. "Don't look at me from your perspective; look at me from the perspective of a man, of someone that sees me in the village for the first time, or crosses glances with me at a marketplace. What am I like?" Her voice was small, almost pleading; but all Zuko could think about was finally being given the opportunity to openly look at her the way he had been secretly observing her for weeks now.

_Weeks? _he asked himself.

_Weeks. Don't try to deny it. _He let his amber eyes rove up and down the waterbender's robe-covered form. Her hair, loose and wavy, formed a jasmine-scented curtain around her shoulders. Sparkling blue eyes were intensified by her withheld tears, and long, brown lashes framed them.

"You're like…" he began, and faltered. Her face crumpled a little bit, and he grabbed her arm, sitting up next to her.

"You're like a fresh rain after a mercilessly hot summer," he said. "Your skin is… incredibly soft, and has the most exotic color I've ever seen. Your eyes change with your mood; they can be blue as the deep ocean, blue as the glaciers in your South Pole, blue as the night sky. They're never the same, and there's always something behind them." His voice was dripping like warm honey; his arms had wound themselves around her shoulders. Her face pressed into his chest and she blushed.

"Your hair is wild," he said, running his fingers through it. "It stands out because it's not as harsh and tamed as other girls'. And your waist, and your legs…" he trailed off as visions of Katara in training attire invaded his thoughts. Katara didn't want him to stop; his voice was healing, melting away all of her insecurities, making her feel truly beautiful for the first time in…

Well, ever.

"My waist?" she prompted in a small voice. "My legs?" she grasped his arms from where they were wrapped tightly around her and guided his palms first to the small circle of her waist, and then down a little lower, tracing her thighs, knees and calves through her dress. Zuko could swear he was overheating; here was his friend, a girl that he had grown to consider his _best _friend, dragging the too-sensitive (when had they become so sensitive?) pads of his fingers along her dress, tracing over her smooth mocha skin in the most risqué way. Her eyes were perfectly open and aware; she was not asleep, she was doing everything intentionally, and that fact only excited him more.

"Katara," he began huskily, but she put a finger to his lips.

"Stop me," she said, voice at once harsh and persuasive. "Stop me if this isn't what you want." She let the words hang in the air, but Zuko wouldn't have any of it. Her dress had ridden up her thigh, and her collar was hanging open, laces untied. Her chin was hard and proud, and he knew that if he refused her, she would take it and leave him alone. But one hand was at the small of her back, and the other was sliding down her warm thigh; and as she shuddered in his arms he realized that unless she stopped him, he wouldn't – couldn't – stop himself.

"Katara," he said again, his lips moving against her palm, and she gave a little mewl at the heat in his voice. He grabbed at the hand covering his mouth; her thin, brown fingers almost disappeared into his larger ones, but he rescued them, kissing their tips one by one.

"Your mom is here," she murmured distractedly. "Maybe we should…" but she was interrupted by the heady sensation of his teeth on her neck. His hands were hot, tracing burning patterns on her sensitive collarbones and working their way down to her hips.

"You're too tempting," he growled, sending shivers down her spine. "Get down." Usually Katara would have argued – how dare he command her to do anything? – but his hands firmly came down on her hips, dragging her down until she was lying on top of him. They were well-matched; she ground against him seductively and he emitted a savage sound. Fueled by his reaction, she crashed her lips into his. This was nothing like the morning good-bye kisses in Tanarak; there was a rush of passion, desperation, longing, and overdue intoxication one with the other that left them breathless and wanting.

He began to undress her, and time seemed to stand still; he knew what was coming next, he was no innocent, but for the moment he was entranced by her flawless, deep skin; the curve of her shoulders, the curve of her hips. Her breasts, half-hidden by a sudden, shy crossing of arms, were deliciously pert, their tips standing at attention from the cold of the room. Heat surged to his already throbbing groin, and he hastily undressed himself, pulling her flat on top of him and yanking the covers over them.

"You're hot," said Katara almost giddily. She straddled him and he groaned with the effort of not taking her then and there.

"Firebender," he managed brusquely, and Katara cocked an eyebrow at him. The temperature in the room (or maybe just the space under the covers) had skyrocketed in the few moments since Katara had asked her innocent question, but neither bender seemed to mind.

"Can you make me hot, too?" asked Katara, vaguely aware that he had somehow taken control of her hips much like a puppeteer would take control of his marionette. Zuko smiled that sideways smile she had always secretly liked, and her heart skipped a beat.

"When I'm done with you," he murmured heatedly, "you'll be fit to melt metal." He teased her entrance, and Katara bucked a little to meet him halfway. Suddenly, everything moved faster than a hurricane wind. A voice cried out in mixed pain and pleasure; distantly, Katara realized that the voice was hers, howling from Zuko's harsh invasion of her womanhood. They acquired a rhythm, fast and then slow, constant and abrupt, and after hours – Days? Moments? Months? – the world exploded into crystalline fragments of fire and ice, the benders meeting their sweet relief at the same moment and coming down, spent, ears buzzing with the sounds of each other's names.

When they had recovered slightly, Katara gave him an angelic smile, placed the sweetest of kisses on his bruised lips, and promptly fell asleep next to him. Zuko's heart was skittering about like a rabbaroo, and as her breathing deepened, he crushed the girl toward him.

_Something happened here, Zuko,_ he told himself, and then mentally berated the voice in his head for pointing out the obvious. He thought he'd feel guilt and regret; after all, Katara was his closest friend and a bender he very much admired. But instead, his body was floating in some cloud of warmth, and a small part of him realized that he wanted to hold this girl, this _woman_, for the rest of his life the way he was holding her now.

He looked down at her. Her face was peaceful, her naked body chastely covered by the blankets he had pulled up.

_Dear Agni, I think I've fallen in love with her…_

And when he thought it, he realized, it wasn't "the Avatar's waterbender" he fell in love with, nor was it "Chief Katara of the Water Tribe."

It was merely Katara; _his_ skilled, impulsive, caring, gentle, beautiful, irritating, strong, delicate Katara.

_Mine_, he thought, and even in his head he liked the sound of it.

Soon enough, lack of sleep caught up with him; and it was not long before his breathing had slowed to match the girl's next to him.

…

Author's Note: There is absolutely no plot development (Ursa-wise) in this chapter. I just couldn't resist doing a completely fluffy love-fest, so the story will continue in the next chapter. I hope I didn't disappoint too many people with this one, as I'm not a very good writer when it comes to intimate scenes *-*' Please review! I love hearing from all of my amazing readers!


	10. Salvation

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.

Chapter 10: Salvation

The cold had already seeped into his limbs, making it difficult to wake up, when he heard the grating noise that morning. He struggled to raise his eyelids, forced himself awake – and it was only when he turned that he realized that she was no longer in bed next to him, that his mother was missing also, that he was alone in the room as the wind whistled desolately through the mountaintop chamber.

"Mom?" he rasped, the cold freezing the words before they had made it all the way out of his mouth. " 'tara?"

"You won't find them here," echoed an unsympathetic voice. Despite the lack of complete walls, the sound reverberated, vibrating in his ears until he covered them in a futile effort to escape the pain. His eyes were a blaze of lights and stars, the result of an unimaginable pressure squeezing relentlessly down on his senses of hearing and sight.

"I've already dealt with your mother and your woman," snarled the voice, each syllable driving pain deeper into his skull. "You're the only one left…"

Zuko's world swam as he forced his eyes open; he couldn't, wouldn't believe that his mother was dead, that Katara was dead – this whole journey had opened his eyes better than his entire lifetime had, and he'd be damned if he just let that sudden clarity slide away while he was sleeping in an a happy post-coupling glow.

"Show yourself," he barked, taking a firebending stance. "SHOW YOURSELF, COWARD!" A soft chuckling brought fresh stars to his eyes, but he fought against falling to his knees.

"Happy to oblige," said the voice, chucking again. "All you have to do is move the curtain…" The curtain that served as the only entrance to room fluttered, mocking him, and he pushed himself, one step at a time, toward it. Time seemed to move more and more slowly, his limbs felt like lead – and throughout it all, his mind was opened to sounds of pain that he could not identify as either his own or anyone else's.

"Those are spirits stopping you," said the voice, an edge of anger tainting its former calm. "Those are the spirits of each and every person ever killed by an elemental bender. And they are dragging you down, taking you down to a world they would not have joined but for your kind…" His head was assaulted by cries, shrieks of fear and agony, of mass killings and personal slaughters… and then that voice, one with which he had recently become all-too-familiar, standing out even in that cacophonous barrage:

"Don't listen to her, Zuko… Ursa and I are here; we'll figure a way out, just stay away and _stay alive!_"

Bossy as ever, but her words broke the hold the room had on him and he sprinted, wide-awake, in full defiance of her wishes, toward the fluttering curtain. He charred them with a single blast and kept right on sprinting into the maze of tunnels and passages Ursa had led them through just the previous day. The smell of iron invaded his nose, and he threw a fireball ahead of him down a small tunnel.

A wide trail of quickly-freezing blood winked back at him.

Cursing loudly, he turned down that tunnel, feet beating in a frantic staccato toward a scene he was sure would match those he had seen – and caused – during the war. He tripped on something that sent him sprawling forward, and he barely had time to register that he had activated one of his mother's traps before he was flinging himself against the tunnel wall to avoid the rain of poisonous darts falling on the spot he'd too recently inhabited.

"Keep running," mocked the voice. "You're so close…" He rounded a corner and stopped abruptly. Blocking his path were none other than Hong and Ming Ya, armed with short crossbows. Hong was wearing a look of utter hatred; Ming Ya was alternately looking hurt, angry, and confused.

"Move," said Zuko, fists balled at his sides. "Please, I mean you no harm." Ming Ya shifted nervously, but Hong stopped her with a scathing glance and trained his crossbow on Zuko. The fur-lined hood on his parka rippled ominously in a breeze Zuko did not feel.

"I'm sorry," said Ming Ya in a low voice. "I really liked you, and your wife was so lovely…" Her voice was regretful, but series of pained and angry looks flitted across her features. Her bony fingers gripped the crossbow for all it was worth.

"No benders in Tanarak," growled Hong simply, and Zuko threw himself on the ground as the man's finger flexed over the crossbow trigger. An arrow whizzed over his head, a second following closely as Ming Ya loosed her own. They reloaded and aimed at him on the ground, their misses coming closer and closer to becoming successes.

"Please," grunted Zuko, rolling and snapping from place to place. "The war is over. There is no elemental strife, we live in harmony, benders and non-benders-" He dodged arrows, but he came to realize that, while one set remained determinedly close to him, the other was growing more and more erratic in its path. Was he getting through?

"Just let me pass…" he had barely rolled out of the way of an anticipated arrow when, heart sinking, he heard one whistling toward his chest. An unpredictable arrow, loosed by Ming Ya, had found its way to him in the dark of the tunnel…

_Is this what it feels like? _He thought to himself, his world a hazy blue.

_I don't see my life flashing before my eyes._

_I'm still in pain._

_But the arrow never even hit me, I'm sure of it…_

././././././././

"That wraps up today, my pupils," said the instructor. "Roll up your packs, and enjoy your evening." The rustle of leather and tools and subsequent shuffling of feet informed the healer that her class was making its way out of the temple atrium.

"Sifu Kamala?" asked a voice, accompanied by a light touch on her shoulder. The woman turned her hazy eyes toward her student.

"Yes, Yuuan?" Slippered feet shuffled nervously beneath robes.

"I have a message from Sifu Toph. She says to please meet her in the stone pit as soon as you can… she says it is important, and that Regent General Iroh will be there also." Kamala nodded, back straighter, sightless eyes brightening – perhaps Toph and Iroh had information about her step-daughter? – and stood from her bench.

"Thank you, Yuuan. You may go, I am leaving immediately." The student shuffled off and Kamala put two fingers to her lips and whistled for her secretary. Jian Ji arrived as she usually did, disheveled but ready to serve.

"Yes, my lady?" she gasped slightly, out of breath.

"Take me to the stone pit, please," said Kamala, and the secretary offered her arm. "You may also say whatever it is you wish to say, Jian Ji, you seem anxious." The secretary nodded, shifting her books to her other arm.

"Well, Lady Kamala, there have been rumors that the Avatar has returned to the Temple," said the secretary. "They say he has brought his son back, and that Tenzin has a fever no healer is able to cure." Kamala's brow wrinkled.

"When did they arrive?" she asked, her fingers tightening on the secretary's arm.

"Moments ago, my lady, and I think that is why you are being summoned… I have not seen him, but the maids and the students can't stop talking about it. Teachers are being told to keep quiet, if they know, and if they don't know they are not being informed." Kamala's mouth tightened to something between a smile and a grimace.

"And how is it that you know, Jian Ji?" The secretary laughed nervously.

"General Iroh hired me for my ability to keep quiet and look out," replied the girl.

"Keep quiet?" Kamala arched an eyebrow at Jian Ji.

"I thought you should know!" she exclaimed defensively. "Aren't you happy I told you?" Kamala nodded distractedly. Her mind was on the Avatar and his son, and Tenzin's mother… Kamala's own step-daughter. Something deep in her gut told her the boy's fever and Katara's absence were connected.

"Here we are," announced Jian Ji, and Kamala could hear the heavy dropping, pounding, and cracking of stone against stone. "And here comes Miss Bei Fong." Heavy sliding announced the arrival of the earthbender on a literal landslide.

"Thank you, Jian Ji. I'll take it from here." The petite Earth-Rumble-Champion-turned-school-founder stomped up to Kamala, hands on her hips.

"Lady Kamala, we need your help, and we need you to keep quiet about it." Never one to mince words, that girl, but the situation seemed too serious to laugh. Kamala bowed her head and put a hand on Toph's shoulder.

"Tell me what you need me to do."

././././././././

Katara had been hanging from her shackles for long enough that her wrists were raw and her arms had fallen asleep. Her clothes were weighing her down; more from cruelty than anything, she thought, they had trussed her up with the enormous Tanarak parka still on.

_Think_, she told herself. _Think. _

There was no way for her to bend in this room – it was all stone and all dry, not a single bit of her element within range. She wasn't even sweating, so even if she could free her hands to bend, she really had nothing at all to bend _with._

_Think_.

Across the room from her, Zuko's mother hung in a similar position; her chin was jutting out defiantly, not giving an inch despite having hung from her wrists for hours. Her side was also covered in dried blood; her fight against the attackers that had dragged them to the room had resulted in a stab on her side from a venomous arrow. The wound had smoked a bit and then bled ceaselessly, up until the moment when her hands were literally tied.

_Think_.

And that was when Zuko was dragged into the room into the room, limp – _lifeless?_ – and Katara finally lost it.

"What did you DO TO HIM?" Her bloody wrists screamed in agony as she twisted her body so her legs could climb up the wall.

"You MONSTERS!" Perched on the wall, Katara saw that the hooded people had turned to her, training crossbows on her back. A whiff of iron had come with them, and she had an idea.

"Shoot me," she said slowly, smiling grimly. "SHOOT ME, you cowards!" One of the attackers, face hidden by the typical yellow parka, shakily pointed the crossbow; the other pointed and shot without hesitation, aiming for Katara's heart through her back. At that exact moment, Katara dropped, and the steel arrow struck her shackle, directly hitting its weakest point – the hole where the key should have gone. She dropped to her feet with the grace of a cat and turned, eyes blazing, to the attackers.

"You'll pay for what you did to him," said Katara, and furiously raised a hand. The attackers found themselves involuntarily dropping their crossbows and forced to the ground, prostrate before her. Breaths came ragged from the pair as they battled with their traitorous bodies, hearts that refused to pump, lungs that refused to expand and contract.

_No, please!_

The small voice came from somewhere inside of her.

_Don't do this. They are not the ones at fault here._ The small voice was joined by an older, wiser one. Katara dropped her wrist, releasing her prisoners, and looked around for the voices.

"Why do you not kill them, young one?" asked the voice Katara had long ago come to recognize as Nawang's. "You want to. I know you do." The waterbender's wrist tightened reflexively, causing a slight convulsion from the pair before her, but the voices of reason intervened again.

_Don't do this, please. There is too much pain already. Violence… violence is never the answer_, the young voice pleaded with her.

_Daughter, listen to him – this is not the person you have grown to be. Your Tribe, your family, your friends – they know you can do better than this. Even during the war, with Yon Rha, you did better than this. _

Her hands dropped to her sides, and she dropped to her knees.

_Tell me what to do,_ Katara pleaded silently. _How do I resolve this? They killed Zuko, and they'll kill Ursa and I… not one of us will be left!_

_Mom… please…_

For a moment, the world was silent, and then the young voice again sounded.

_Wait._

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Zuko's chest began to rise and fall.

_Just wait._

A rasping breath, but no consciousness.

_It is not them you're after, it's Nawang._

The couple had begun to inch back, weapons abandoned, but Katara wasn't ready to let them go just yet.

"You two," she said from the ground, still on her knees, voice low. "Bring back Nawang. Tell her it's time to face me." They scuttled from her sight and Katara hurried to unshackle Ursa. The woman groaned, the wound in her side spewing a fresh stream of blood even through the clotted mess on her clothes.

"Are you ok?" the woman asked Katara, and the waterbender grasped her by the shoulders.

"Am _I_ ok? You're the one with the hole in your side!" The blind woman smiled at Katara, a young face beaming with old wisdom.

"I have been through worse, dearest." Katara accepted that and released the woman, guiding her toward where Zuko lay breathing shallowly. The pallor on his normally pale face was enough to frighten her, but she simply placed his mother's hands on his prone form and squeezed her shoulder.

"Take care of him until this fight is over… please." The humble hurt and overwhelming love and concern in her voice made Ursa sure that this girl, this waterbender, was her son's true match. Mai had always been a nice girl, of course, and a good candidate for a wife if the war hadn't changed everything… if Ursa's son had become as his father was. But this Chief Katara of the Southern Water Tribe… this was a warrior, strong in opinion as she was in ability. She knew how to protect and defend, and she loved Zuko… that much was easy enough to see, now.

And as for Zuko… well, Ursa had known Zuko loved Katara from the moment he tucked her into bed in front of her, a tenderness that nearly broke her heart when he insisted they were only friends.

"So, you've decided to fight, have you?" The icy voice whistled through the room, and the temperature dropped a dozen degrees in the span of a few moments.

Katara settled into a waterbending stance, said nothing, and waited.

"Fine," spat the voice. "So be it!" A spirit materialized before Katara; it was Nawang, but her body and face seemed to be transparent, roiling waves of red and black crashing back and forth, humming under her skin. Her white hair had come free of its braids, trailing a long way behind her as she advanced on Katara, hands out, fingers like talons. She swiped the air in front of Katara's nose and a long gash opened up on Katara's right cheekbone, drawing all the way down to her neck.

Before she could respond, another gash was growing on her side and another on her leg, and Katara had to bite back the pain before raising her own hands.

"Not this time," she muttered. "I'm tired of being handled!" She raised her wrists and gathered every last ounce of strength in her before bringing them down; at first, Nawang seemed to stumble and pull down, and Katara thought she had succeeded; but then, the spirit rushed at her, pulling Katara's hair and grasping at her neck.

"Stupid girl, I'm not a mortal – I've no _blood_ to _bend_!" She laughed hysterically and clawed at Katara, choking her. Katara screamed and bit as hard as she could, kicking Nawang in the ribs, fighting, fighting to no avail. Her world began to swim before her, black invading her vision.

_Is this it?_ Suddenly, the woman's grasp weakened, and Katara felt air rushing back into her lungs. She kicked fiercely and heard the very mortal sound of cracking ribs before Nawang crumpled before her. A black cloud rose out as the corpse grew older and older, shriveling until it was nothing but dust. The cloud expanded to take over the room, blocking the exit, expanding and condensing into a heavy layer of dread, fear, and hate.

_You still tried to kill me? _Asked the voice self-righteously. Katara squinted and saw why Nawang had released her – Ursa was holding a lethal-looking hairpin that was eroding as the corpse had eroded.

The black fog filtered into their noses and eyes, taking them down.

_You can never kill me! I am a spirit of Ko, the Face Stealer!_

Katara ran to Ursa, and both women fell onto Zuko. They could see nothing except each other now, and that was slowly fading as the room filled with black.

_Mom… help me… _pleaded Katara desperately. _Mom, what do I do?_ But instead of her mother's voice, the young voice from before answered her.

_Mom, listen to me, _said the voice. It reverberated in Katara's skull, unrecognizable but so deeply familiar that it tugged at her heartstrings.

_Tenzin?_

_Mom, dad and I are here. Dad is going to help you with that evil spirit, through me, through the Spirit World… just hang on, mom, please. _

Katara felt herself fading fast, but she clutched at Ursa and Zuko and nodded.

_I trust you._

She opened herself to her son, and through him saw all the travels he had with his father… all of the negotiations he had learned to make, the skills he had been taught… she saw how he had often wondered about his mother, how often he speculated about his people and the way of the monks… all of her son's lifetime swirled through Katara's head, making her dizzy, and then another conscious made its way in.

_Katara?_

_Aang…_

_Katara, I'm going to have to…_

And everything went dark.

././././././././

"Bring me another cloth," barked Kamala. She sat in a hard wooden chair, hands hovering over the prone forms of both the Avatar and his son. Tenzin was sweating and shivering excessively, and his father was not far behind. Though the temperature in the kiln room was easily higher than that of the deserts, both men were convulsing under their many blankets and heated bricks.

"I don't know what's wrong with them," said Kamala. "It's as if their sickness is in a place I can't reach… It's like nothing I've ever seen before!" Toph appeared at Kamala's elbow, face sick with anger and worry.

"Can you help them or not?" she asked exasperatedly, not meaning to be rude, but too wound up to be polite. Kamala's mouth tightened and she snapped her fingers.

"They only way we can get them back is to nurse them through this fever. They're going to have to sweat it out, as with any other. Get General Iroh in here. We need the spiciest tea he has, and someone to keep these bricks warm. Get me more water and cloths. It's going to be a very long night." Toph scurried off to get Iroh, while Kamala crooked a finger at one of her students.

"Pick up a rag, dip it in water, and rub his arms and chest down in circles," she said, jutting her chin at Tenzin. "Talk to him, if you can. Just talking sometimes will bring them back."

././././././././

A terrible red light pierced her eyelids, followed by a flash of light so blinding, she couldn't help but wish for the dark she had so readily succumbed to before.

_Tenzin? _She called silently.

_Aang?_ For moments, there was no reply. Then, softly, weakly:

_Dad is already back with Aunt Toph and Grandfather Iroh. I can't find my way. _Katara's heart ached at the loneliness she heard in her son's voice.

_Why can't you find your way?_

_I think it's because I'm so attached to you. I've never known what this is like. _Katara saw an image of her son, a faint outline of a serious little boy with grey eyes and yellow robes, reaching for her.

_Oh Tenzin… _

She reached for him, but he turned those luminous orbs toward her.

_They're waiting for me._

And then Katara understood. She had to let him go all of those years ago; if she ever wanted to see him again, she had to let him go now.

_I'll see you soon, Tenzin. _The boy smiled, looking exactly like Aang had as a child.

_You'll be surprised,_ he said, and walked away.

The white faded away from her vision.

././././././././

"He's back, his breathing is stronger. Someone bring me broth, he's back!" Kamala shouted her orders and they were readily met, a bowl of broth appearing by her arm with a long-handled spoon.

"Tenzin?" she said gently, and saw that his eyes moved rapidly under closed eyelids. "Tenzin, come back to me darling. Your father is here, and he misses you. Come on, Tenzin…" The boy shivered and moved his mouth, forming undecipherable words. Aang, too weak to sit up, spoke gently from the other side of the sickroom.

"Tenzin, please come back… there is so much left to teach you, Tenzin." The boy's eyelids fluttered rapidly, and suddenly he grasped Kamala's arms harshly, eyes flying open.

"Tenzin?" she asked. "Tenzin, are you with me?" The boy turned his eyes to Kamala, grey orbs blazing from the residual illness.

"My mother, Fire Lord Zuko and Lady Ursa are trapped in the South Pole, in a village called Tanarak. They are in the topmost cave. Lady Ursa and Zuko are awake, but injured. My mother…" he trailed off, and then squeezed his eyes shut.

"She is weak, and she needs to be saved. Please, save her." He dropped back into the bed; Kamala panicked, putting a wrist to his forehead, but quickly controlled herself.

"His fever has broken," she said, her voice becoming shrill. "Someone _save my step-daughter_." Before she could move away from Tenzin, a tiny hand pulled her back down. He heaved himself up until he could whisper directly in her ear.

"Are you a healer?" he asked quietly, weakly, and Kamala squeezed his hand.

"Yes," she answered, perplexed. Tenzin drew even closer.

"I don't know how I know this, but I saw it, when we were connected – and I think my father saw it too – my mom is going to lose her baby if you don't find her soon."

Kamala gripped his tiny wrist hard.

"How…?"

"She doesn't know it yet. Save her, healer lady."


End file.
